Wednesday, September 22, 2004
Seen on the Metro
Picture the scene. I'm at Madou station, my local stop, waiting to catch a train that takes me to work (two stops. Ten minute walk. Yes, I'm very lazy). There's a delay on the Metro (Brussels underground). The boards show that there are three or four trains queued up, waiting to enter Madou, but for some reason one is stuck at the next station down the line. There is a sizeable crowd on the platform as there has been no train for a while.

One train pulls into the station. It is already rammed. A few good citizens disembark. The train is still 95% full.

Enter Lardarse, stage left.

Seeing a full train, with two or three more trains indicated on the boards as being less than three minutes away, one could assume that our salad-dodging chum might be prepared to wait thirty seconds for the next train.

Alas not.

Jean Le Piemuncher, clearly believing there was some kind of steak dinner inside the train, crow-bars his way into a packed carriage, reaching out with both arms to steady himself and thereby forcing his sweaty, festering armpits into the faces of those either side of them. The sight of their tortured faces will stay with me to the grave. The doors of the train squeeze shut, wedging our portly chum's buttocks tightly up against the glass. The train slowly pulled away.

I am still unable to even contemplate eating.

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