[ Ride The Wild Choo
Choo ]
Whilst commuting for hours
and hours and hours in (what seems to be and, in fact, IS) the dead of
night you must pass the endless, exhausting, hysterical time in some righteous
way otherwise your brain will explode (which will annoy everyone in the
carriage - and we wouldn't want that, now would we?).
Try these patented methods :
(a) Have a long, snore filled
snooze, punctuated occasionally by a couple of noisome, wet farts thrown
in for good measure (you'll just have to believe me when I say that I have
NOT taken up this particular option although, how the hell would I know
if I'm asleep?)
(b) Stick your face in a good
book and drift effortlessly into the exciting, magnificent, non-commuting
world that the writer (who obviously leads an electrifying life of weekday
dinner parties that go on till dawn) has created for you. Unfortunately,
in the earliest hours of the morning, a sub-standard book will often lead
to option (a) being invoked instead - be ever watchful.
(c) Insert a pair of well used,
wax coated headphones into your ears and play your favourite techno music
very LOUDLY until you either get a headache that rips your skull open from
brow to bleeding base or the 10 people closest to you can't take the irritating
chicka-chicka-chicka noise anymore, slip into a multi-homicidal rage and
beat you to a slow, preferably agonizing death with their bare hands. (NB
- this option is not recommended for children less than 16 years of age)
(d) Let your eyes glaze over
slowly with a robotic, metallic sheen, your mouth to part ever so slightly
(allowing a small dribble of spittle to ooze from the corner) and your
muscles to relax almost totally [watch out for residual farts from option
(a)!]. You are now in the Commuting Zone. This option requires an almost
Zen-like dedication to travelling the train backwards and forwards from
one far off urban centre to another, a be-draggled brain that cannot turn
itself completely off, eyes so rimmed with blood that they burn endlessly
with tears and ears so numbed and drugged from listening to music made
by computers that they just can NOT listen anymore.
You could live closer to your
workplace, but that'd be 'No fun, my babe, no fun'
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