I used to commute from Ealing to Central London every day on the central line
My journey would typically take 45mins, depending on changes. On the way home, I'd try and get in the same carriage each time as it sped my exit from the station at my 'home' end.
At the time, the trains on that line were relatively new, and comparatively clean. However in the summer they could get rather warm, so much so that if it was summer and I couldn't get a seat, I'd try and stand at the front of a carriage near the door, so I could get the breeze from the open window.
For one summer, every evening I got on the train at Tottenham Court Road, I'd be joined by a corpulent, greasy bloke who always wore the same clothes - shiny polyester tracksuit bottoms and a polyester mesh american football top. Every day he would sit in the centre of the bank of seats, with his legs spread, and his arms draped over the backs of the seats, and, for the entire length of the journey would exude a mind-boggling stench of BO and knobcheese. The smell was so bad that I could taste lumps of it on the back of my tongue. He would sit there with a look of complete contentment as he surveyed everyone else in the carriage's distinct discomfort at the sheer horror of his odour. The fat fucking cunt.
( mictoboy shitting in your cunt since, Fri 17 Jan 2014, 16:14, Reply)