Dear young man at the train station,
I'm not sure if you were aware of this fact, but you had a large brown stain covering most of the bum of your pale blue skinny jeans. I amused myself in the few minutes we were waiting for the train by trying to decide how it got there - did you simply not know how to use the washing machine, and your clothes were going mouldy? Had you decided, unwisely, to sit down somewhere muddy and stained them? Were you in fact gay, and after a quick morning rough loving session with your boyfriend neglected the fact that his spluff may be leaking out of your bottom mixed in with your unpassed morning ablutions and this vile substance was in fact what was causing the amusing sight? By the way, you are also way too short to be wearing skinny jeans. I'm only an avergae size woman and I'm taller than you, and folding the leg of your jeans halfway back up to your knees just isn't cool.

I therefore had a little bet with myself over whether you were a Brighton or a Sussex student, and upon leaving the train tried to dawdle and look behind me without looking like I was dawdling and looking behind me, so I could see which direction you walked off in. However, this slightly impossible manoeuvre on my part meant I walked into a hedge.

Thank you, boy with the stain on his trousers, for helping me make myself look like a twat this morning.

Love, me.
(Petite chien is going to do science to it, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 9:43, 1 reply)

Hahahahahahahahaha
Karma's a bitch.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 9:44, closed)