We all know the train. The Friday night carriage of carnage that manages to drag hundreds of intoxicated, over eager, office workers back to their homes before it’s time for them to order a £60 Uber back to the suburbs.
The infamous 23.54 from Platform 15 that contains some of the most inspiring characters for a blog. The last train home and a picture that paints a thousand stories of why we shouldn’t drink.
There’s always the same old faces, that you’ll always see. I’ve managed to, and quite proudly. whittle them down to the following categories.
Roll up, roll up.
Burger King Billy.
Yep, he’s been on the big licks since around 4pm. His TM Lewin tie is covered in pale ale and he’s already regretting the minute his 4 and 6 year old will wake him up at 7am tomorrow morning to go to football and ballet. The only thing that will fend off the impending hangover, potential divorce and drink driving ban is a Whopper meal. Burger King Billy can barely find his face but he’s going to get through this meal and the extra mozzarella bites if it’s the last thing he does.
She went out after work in the vein hope that Sam from accounts would finally slip her a bum squeeze and some attention over her chardonnay, only to be met with the realisation that he’s knocking it off with Leah from Legal. She’s carried on drinking all of the chardonnay against everyone’s better judgement and now, hammered, (and pre midnight) our little Cinderella is swiping like a motherfucker. Drunk Tinder is her last resort. Should be noted that if she’s also been on the shots, she’s probably sending some pretty fruity messages. Filthy mare.
Her boyfriend was an absolute dickhead on Wednesday and now is the time he’s going to learn about the error of his ways. On a crowded carriage. She is going to scream blue murder at him down her iPhone until the happy hour martinis wear off. Power Woman.
He doesn’t care that you’ve got no interest in talking to him whatsoever, he is going to make friends on this train. Because he’s 12 pints in and has the confidence of a porn star. He will bore you to tears until East Croydon about his job that you don’t give a shit about and will not understand why you won’t give him your phone number.
Party Bus Paul.
Go home at midnight? You must be off your nut. He’ll spend the entirety of the 23.54 making arrangements for which one of his mates he’s going to meet in the pub when he gets off the train. More often than not starts his phone conversations with ‘What Up BRUVVVAAAAAAA…I’ve got the dreaded flavour, let’s go Tiger!’. Oh god.
The knobs that still try and read the Evening Standard even though it’s apparent they’ve lost their ability to see. Mainly highlighted by the fact that they are reading the paper upside down. And are asleep.
& last but not least my absolute fav.
Oh bless her. Her boss took her out for lunch, she’s not been back to the office and has seen of the best part of 3 bottles of Merlot. There’s someone else in the loo and she’s had to resort to a little spew in a UpperCrust bag.