they did ask me, said breadroll to make the first line and that is exactly what i did — right now i did it. not that i did not do exactly the same thing before but that is a second line now which i believe everyone has been waiting for. we should get something out of it.
what, train folks asked. he was a stout fella, red around the nose, eyes bloodshot, contained movements, a bull about to enter a china shop. what, he says. ticket, he says, points towards the clock. shortly, he finally snorts. lifts his shoulders. eats.
so we are, entrenched, said sponge, he was, of course exaggerating. so there they sat, sat at least, not idly loiterish standing like the rest of all.
they spent time sitting, mostly, holding on to their seats, making sure stuff that may not have been sure before or may have become uncertain; inconsistent results. wet conditions. not set to improve.
no just don’t do anything, said sponge and used a cattle prod he had found in the stationmaster’s office on breadroll. it was in the stationmaster orifice, he said, you should be honoured.
stop that, said breadroll. that’s not so funny.
the cattle prod, train people issue, was of cheaper make than expected. it broke soon, having served neither purpose nor cause.
yes. a sudden. great now and in a sudden small and crushed. the sudden certainly makes the difference, said sponge. he also said, he didn’t think a phonecall would be necessary but that’s a different matter all together.
it was good, said sponge, even i find the thought revolting now when i come to think of it.
although it did happen all a bit of a sudden, said breadroll. no build up to it really. normally there is a hint of some sort. something at least. and we could have found other ways of entertainment.
i don’t think people liked it much, said sponge.
probably not, said breadroll. we do tend to labour on about things.
yea well, but are you going to do. ring in some cabaret?
phone would be outside.
the tart wasn’t that bad, said breadroll, bit juicy.
not bad no, said sponge, but i could do with a burger to bugger. a cheap sexual allegation.
sex you all, so there. the tart, now remembered. burgers. starve. starving. to starve. no way you put it will it make sound any more feeding. nothing. they had rations, stuff bought by passers-by, bars, triangular sandwich containers, bars, bags of crips. on the other side of the barrier, the vending machine operated by train people. they fuck. they think about it. discuss the option.
train people can be creepy, call themselves train staff or something organised. many encounter them without knowing who they are. they tend to inflict pain. they do. they want to.
they apologise for inconvenience caused.
train people are required to say shorthly with a certain drawl. it must not sound threatening, it should sound both empathetic and helpless but yet suggest strong confidence in things working out well eventually at the same time, you don’t want a panic, panicking passengers are the worst. they shout and complain and want to speak the manager, who almost always does not want to speak to them. who do they think they are? others are not so lucky; others don’t even have permission to wait for a train, let alone see the arrival of one. years of training went into that and some never reach the degree of skill and seniority required to be suitably prepared to talk to the customer.
for budgetary reasons the management had recently started to employ young ladies who clearly did not the their pronounciation right but were hidden behind enforced glass; and wore nice dresses.
shortly, said sponge, shortly.
you have a certain arrogance, said breadroll, as if you wouldn’t want a train to appear at all. your fake tan is showing as well.
13 November, 2007 
