no taxi home
My friend's dad, Bob, was a wonderful old gent; he and my father had been best men to each other and you could not imagine a more avuncular, pleasant, mild old boy.

However, like all old boys, he was once young, and, like most young men, used to like a drink or two after work. Based in the city, and commuting home to Winchester, from time to time he'd fall asleep on the train and wake up in Southampton, only to make the blearily and pleading call home to his wife to come and collect him.

After maybe the third or fourth time, his wife had had enough, and told him in no uncertain terms that 'next time, you're sleeping on a bench at the station'.

Sure enough, the next time rolled around and bob was on the phone pleading with a sternly resolute wife who refused, point blank, to come and pick him up.

Cold, penniless and starting to get the fear, Bob heard a voice... "Bob, Bob, what're you doing?" came the cry from the far platform. Bob Dimly recognises an old school mate, sees the faintest glimmer of hope and explains his plight.

"Winchester you say?" says the chap. "hmmm... Winchester shouldn't be a problem. Hop in".


And that is how a. Bob avoided sleeping on a station bench that night and b. found out that his old schoolfriend had achieved his ambition of becoming a train driver. Apparently, trains are very cool places to be from the front seat...
(pounana Slept well, and dreamed of large women, on, Sat 26 Feb 2011, 20:40, 4 replies)

and then your parents got drunk?

( 4Q just lurking, Sat 26 Feb 2011, 23:16, closed)

Bob was drunk and is a parent.
It's not difficult.
(Mork, Mon 28 Feb 2011, 11:03, closed)

funny bunch this week
not sure I like it round here on days like these
(pounana Slept well, and dreamed of large women, on, Mon 28 Feb 2011, 23:39, closed)

I like this, good work
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Sat 26 Feb 2011, 23:31, closed)