Years and years ago, when I was a young soldier, I was based in Southern England and my wife and youngster were living oop North. Now a soldier used to get free travel three or four times a year, travel warrents they were called, but that’s no good if you want to see your family every fortnight.
The train was too expensive, so I resorted to hitch hiking. In those days there were lots of hitch hikers on the roads, and many middle aged drivers had been in National service, so they loved to stop and give you a lift and talk about old times. I remember vividly walking onto the slip road at the services and seeing at least twenty hippies in the queue ahead of me, then the lorry or car would stop right next to me and the driver would shout, ‘get in quick’, much to the disgust of those who had been waiting for hours.
Come the winter time and the bad weather, this became more and more difficult, so I decided to try the train option. Without paying of course. Now my station in Little Sandhurst was unmanned, so I knew that if I could get onto the platform in Lime st, I could travel free. All I needed was a stick and a platform ticket and a single from edge hill to Lime St.
A stick ? The trick to getting a compartment to yourself, getting a good kip, and not worrying about ticket inspectors was to carry a bit of wood, exactly two foot seven long. Then you find an empty compartment and wedge the stick between the wooden base of the seat and the frame of the door , near the handle, this wedges it tight shut, it cannot be slid open.
Getting onto the platform was tricky, because they would only let you on to a platform, with a platform ticket, if there was a train due in. So you had to get onto a nearby platform to the one your train was on , then scoot across the lines either just before or just after the train arrived. Many times I was chased around by the BR staff, hopped onto the train found an empty carriage and wedged the door, just before they caught me, it was dangerous, but I didn’t worry too much about that at the time. The worst was when you had to use an alternative station then realised you were hopping over electric rails. That got the adrenalin going.
Anyways, the point of the story. One night, I got into an empty carriage at Lime st, made my pillow and was just about to settle down when I thought I would check the window. It could get pretty cold if that window was open. I pulled the blind up and realised there was a balloon hanging out of the window. I was just about to pull the windows apart when I noticed it was under pressure, inflated. Then I noticed it wasn’t a balloon, it was a condom.
Being quick in the head I immediately sussed it out. Someone had blown up a condom, jammed the end in the window, and some sucker would come along, open the window and it would fly off, into the night , making farty noises. Tres funny. Except I was wrong. The condom was full alright, but not with air. Some git had filled it full of pee and jammed it in the window. As I pulled it open, a high pressure spurt of rancid rhino p1ss shot out , right at me, hitting my face and shoulder. Jeez, whoever had filled that condom had serious medical problems.
So I had to pick up my stick, my gear and head for the loo to get cleaned up. As I slid the compartment door open, there was a lady standing there with a suitcase, she recoiled at the smell of the wee, then her eyes went like saucers, looking over my shoulder. The condom was stuck there, dangling down with a bulbous swinging end. She looked back at me, totally disgusted, she frowned. I was just about to explain when I felt a drop of urine form tremblingly on the end of my nose
So I kept me gob shut and beat a hasty.
The train was too expensive, so I resorted to hitch hiking. In those days there were lots of hitch hikers on the roads, and many middle aged drivers had been in National service, so they loved to stop and give you a lift and talk about old times. I remember vividly walking onto the slip road at the services and seeing at least twenty hippies in the queue ahead of me, then the lorry or car would stop right next to me and the driver would shout, ‘get in quick’, much to the disgust of those who had been waiting for hours.
Come the winter time and the bad weather, this became more and more difficult, so I decided to try the train option. Without paying of course. Now my station in Little Sandhurst was unmanned, so I knew that if I could get onto the platform in Lime st, I could travel free. All I needed was a stick and a platform ticket and a single from edge hill to Lime St.
A stick ? The trick to getting a compartment to yourself, getting a good kip, and not worrying about ticket inspectors was to carry a bit of wood, exactly two foot seven long. Then you find an empty compartment and wedge the stick between the wooden base of the seat and the frame of the door , near the handle, this wedges it tight shut, it cannot be slid open.
Getting onto the platform was tricky, because they would only let you on to a platform, with a platform ticket, if there was a train due in. So you had to get onto a nearby platform to the one your train was on , then scoot across the lines either just before or just after the train arrived. Many times I was chased around by the BR staff, hopped onto the train found an empty carriage and wedged the door, just before they caught me, it was dangerous, but I didn’t worry too much about that at the time. The worst was when you had to use an alternative station then realised you were hopping over electric rails. That got the adrenalin going.
Anyways, the point of the story. One night, I got into an empty carriage at Lime st, made my pillow and was just about to settle down when I thought I would check the window. It could get pretty cold if that window was open. I pulled the blind up and realised there was a balloon hanging out of the window. I was just about to pull the windows apart when I noticed it was under pressure, inflated. Then I noticed it wasn’t a balloon, it was a condom.
Being quick in the head I immediately sussed it out. Someone had blown up a condom, jammed the end in the window, and some sucker would come along, open the window and it would fly off, into the night , making farty noises. Tres funny. Except I was wrong. The condom was full alright, but not with air. Some git had filled it full of pee and jammed it in the window. As I pulled it open, a high pressure spurt of rancid rhino p1ss shot out , right at me, hitting my face and shoulder. Jeez, whoever had filled that condom had serious medical problems.
So I had to pick up my stick, my gear and head for the loo to get cleaned up. As I slid the compartment door open, there was a lady standing there with a suitcase, she recoiled at the smell of the wee, then her eyes went like saucers, looking over my shoulder. The condom was stuck there, dangling down with a bulbous swinging end. She looked back at me, totally disgusted, she frowned. I was just about to explain when I felt a drop of urine form tremblingly on the end of my nose
So I kept me gob shut and beat a hasty.
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