Thanks a bunch- London to Kent lady....
The woman in my carriage had drunk approximately twenty cranberry flavoured Bacardi Breezers on the last train back to Kent from London. I knew this, because she'd thrown up and her boozy vom was dribbling between my legs towards the back of the train.

I could smell everything she'd eaten and drunk at her office Christmas party, then heard as the middle aged amateur drinker hit the chair in front of me with a Thunk! Her skull clonked against the window. She was passed out, and only I could help her.

I was tempted to leap off at Bromley and disappear into the night, but somewhere between Beckenham and Shortlands I discovered some kind of responsibility for this quite overweight, unconscious woman whose tongue was now lolling out.

There are nearly forty stairs at Bromley South station. I carried her up all of them and approached the cab rank. Obviously, no cab driver wanted anything to do with us. Now eager to get home, I waved twenty quid at one driver, who I persuaded to take her home. I felt a bit good about myself.

On the back seat, I revived her enough to get her address out of her, and luckily it wasnt too far. Mr Driver sighed and I slammed the door shut. Just then, her pale face appeared at the window, and her grubby hand pushed down the sliding window. I thought she was going to thank me.

Instead she threw up a pint more cranberry sick juice, some blood, and a dash of bile, over my shoes, as the cab tore away into the night.
(whitehorse, Tue 3 Jun 2008, 17:50, Reply)