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On my way to work today, I got on the 78 then a woman and her child came on the next stop and they sat at the back of me then her little horror started to kick the back of my seat I told his mother to control her child as this was not acceptable behaviour she just ignored me the child continued to do this.


In the end I was so annoyed I grab his teddy bear out of his hand I said to him ?stop the kicking or the teddy gets it? that sorted problem out the mother was shocked but had nothing to say she then apologised and I gave him back his teddy no trouble from them after that a blissful journey.

Annette Curtain Wrote:

-------------------------------------------------------

> I had great sex on the London to Brighton fast

> train ( in the toilets of course )

>

> The Haywards Heath section was bloody fantastic.

>

> I'd actually been at the London boat show that

> day, though I didn't buy a boat.

>

> Any good to you ( we weren't in love btw )

>

> N(tu)



Oh you lucky thing, I have always wanted to do it on a train ;-)

*Bob* Wrote:

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> I was sick in my mouth somewhere between Oval and

> Stockwell - back in '97 I think it was.

>

> Any use?



Actually *Bob* I snogged someone once & then promptly threw up, but not in her the mouth.


I was in Lincon that nite though, not on a train ( plus, I'd eaten a large chunk of cannabis resin )


N(tu)



>hibbs wrote: Oh you lucky thing, I have always wanted to do it on a train ;-)


Honestly, it's fab & if you get it right you can see yourselves in the mirror :))

On a long long tube ride out to Heathrow a few years ago, I and some friends were sat with our bags. A guy by the door clearly was dying for a pee, presumably he was determined to make it to the airport, maybe he had a plane to catch, I dunno.


During conversation my mate's GF nudged me and said look at the guy. The guy had just decided to release and a quickly expanding dark patch appeared at the fornt of his beige cords. the patch widened and spread down both legs to his trainers and then around where he stood in a warm pool, then it slowly filled up those thin wooden slats in the floor around him that the tube trains used to have. He remained stood still, gazing upon some clearly interesting point just above the door opposite him. As the train rocked it's way the last couple of stops to Heathrow, the pee in the slats would slop back and forth across the door area of the train like a hundred little pee-filled Suez canals.


When the train stopped at his station, he just squelched out as if nothing had happened.

ianr Wrote:

-------------------------------------------------------

> Annette Curtain Wrote:

> --------------------------------------------------

> -----

> > I had great sex on the London to Brighton fast

> train ( in the toilets of course )

>

> A popular line: cf chapter 7 of Stuart

> Sutherland's "Breakdown".




Really ianr.


You need to get out more, rattle the ol'bones.


I recommend this.


N(tu)

> I recommend this.


All right Curtain, it's elucidation time.


It was when he was trying to bum a cigarette from a group smoking in a non-smoking first-class compartment on a late train.


"It turned out that one of the girls worked in a massage parlour in my own home town ... She varied her activities by working the trains back from London in the evening, where she found many businessmen who were glad to avail themselves of her services in the train lavatories at ?10 a time."


She took a liking to him and offered him a freebie (which he declined, his wife being in the next coach). SS was Prof. at Sussex, hence the Brighton line.

Ridgley Wrote:

-------------------------------------------------------

> Really Anette did you get caught?



Well no, but the ticket man did knock at the door.


"Just a minute, I'm coming nearly done here"


We both laughed & carried on banging the life out of each other.


Happy days.


Nette:)

Ridgley Wrote:

-------------------------------------------------------

> On my way to work today, I got on the 78 then a

> woman and her child came on the next stop and they

> sat at the back of me then her little horror

> started to kick the back of my seat I told his

> mother to control her child as this was not

> acceptable behaviour she just ignored me the child

> continued to do this.

>

> In the end I was so annoyed I grab his teddy bear

> out of his hand I said to him ?stop the kicking or

> the teddy gets it? that sorted problem out the

> mother was shocked but had nothing to say she then

> apologised and I gave him back his teddy no

> trouble from them after that a blissful journey.


Brilliant, go Ridgley!

I saw a golden eagle in Scotland whilst commuting on my bike during the sixties,


the only one I have ever seen,


it was resting on a telegraph pole, and when we looked over the brow of the hill and it came into view,


it wasted no time leaving it's perch and flew from sight.

A story I found as told by the late Jeffrey Bernard.


Here's a bizarre tale concerning a young man, the son of an affluent bookmaker who had offices near Simpson's in Piccadilly. His father gave an office party one day and the son duly attended. He was green and inexperienced, ignorant of drink and its attendant dangers. For an hour he mixed champagne with whisky - disastrous. He lost control and inadvertently - how can I put it politely? - evacuated his bowels.


With a mixture of panic and embarrassment he staggered into Simpson's and asked an assistant for a pair of trousers. "What sort of trousers?" he was asked "Any," he said, "any at all. The first pair that comes to hand."


He left the shop with his purchase and hailed a taxi to take him to Charing Cross to get the train home. Once the train was moving, he went to the lavatory to clean himself up as best he could. Having done that, and as the train was speeding through the suburbs, he threw his dirty pants and trousers out of the window. And then, with what one can only imagine to have been a long sigh of relief, he put his hand in the Simpson's carrier bag to pull out his new trousers. The only thing in the bag was a V-neck pullover. He had been given the wrong bag. That is all we know.


Since I read this story I have laid awake at night trying to picture the scene. I presume he put his legs through the sleeves of the jersey, but what I want to know is where did he put the exposed V of the jersey. To the front or his rear? I wonder, too, what the ticket collector thought, let alone the other passengers alighting at Sevenoaks. He is probably a broken man now and gets out of the train either at the stop before Sevenoaks or the stop after in order to go home by taxi. He is now almost certainly a teetotaller.

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