On the Tube a few years back
It was a Saturday evening and there was a surprisingly mellow atmosphere among my fellow Tube-ees.

Obviously there were a few folk dressed up ready to embrace the capital's nightlife, including a very pretty blonde lady.

As the train made one of its stops, in climbed a trampy-looking man in his 40s, who made his feelings for the blonde girl very clear, by leering, wolf-whistling and then swigging on his can of Diamond White.

And then karma waved its cheeky little hand and the train door shut straight into the middle of his smarmy face.

Here's where the trauma began: I thought I might actually die from keeping my internal laughter locked up and managed with just a bit of discreet shoulder-shaking.

But it got worse. I made the fatal error of glancing up at him. Not only had this man gone bright red with embarrassment but, unbeknown to him, he was now also the proud owner of a massive black strip of train-door muck decorating his face in a diagonal line.

It was too much. At this point I began weeping - well, what can I say? He looked like a badger that had been on holiday to the Sahara Desert.

I chuckled solidly for about three more stops and only stopped due to physical exhaustion. Thank you, letchy tramp man, you made my night.
( The Helpful Bear, Thu 29 May 2008, 20:30, Reply)