Tuesday, 8 September 2009

Tram Bingo

I got an excellent score on Tram Bingo this evening with the following:



- Lovely implausibly clean cut Jehova's Witnesses. Where do they find such archetypal Nice Boys? I'm sure they must grow them in poly tunnels somewhere in Nevada.



- A weird set piece: here a crazy lady taking on a gang of da youth for their lack of discretion in sneezing. It included a line that went something like "A retired nurse once told me that the louder you sneeze the more GERMS you spread". The youth did some jeering and the crazy lady said something to her neighbour, by now wishing she had just stayed at work for an extra ten minutes, about "all their orifices working".

- A ridiculous paranoid statement from the crazy lady, really getting into her stride by this stage: "you can get AIDS from those poles". And an instruction, on getting off the tram, to the rest of us "Savonnez vous bien!" (soap yourselves well). Er, yes. Sadly the CRAZY won't wash off with mere soap.


- A very very cross fashiony queen having a hystrionic telephone meltdown. I thought initially it was a break up because he was saying things like "I just can't take it any more, I've had enough, it's over", so I sat down opposite him vampirically to listen, sunglasses on for greater discretion. It wasn't though, it was just work.

"Moi je veux bien mais le Miu Miu et le Prada automne-hiver sont même pas etiquettés! Le Gianfranco Ferré non plus. On a rien vendu du Printemps-Eté - MEME PAS LES BIJOUX FANTAISIE!! Tu sais, on a deux boutiques à Londres, une à la Zoute et deux à Paris et nous sommes les seuls à ne pas faire de profit! Moi je veux bien mais je peux pas faire tourner une boutique pour douze vendeuses tout seul, j'en ai marre Je CRAAAQUEEEEUUUH".

Do you want me to translate that? I will if you want, but it's sort of boring. Imagine a sort of whiny, aggrieved freakout with fashion labels in it, delivered by a very tall, thin, sweating man dressed entirely in far too hot for the 30° weather black with a severe pudding bowl haircut and a giant blingy black and gold watch. It was excellent. The whole tram stopped to watch open mouthed.

- Vest Man. I really need to get you a picture of Vest Man. Vest Man wears his Galliano branded vest and skintight jeans every day in all weathers. He has hair like fifteen grey Brillo Pads in a full Kevin Keegan mullet. And hairy hairy grey hairy shoulders. He is totally compelling.

- A classic novel in a weird language. Dutch Sons and Lovers today: "Zonen en minnaars"

Only missing:
-a person consuming a can of beer (double points for early morning sightings);
-a non-ethnic or religious turban;
-someone (usually parent from gulag) I have mortally offended and now have to avoid in tiny confined space of 92 tram;
- a hideously ugly dog

for a full house.

Tell me about your neighbourhood/commute bingo. Don't give me that, I know you play.

29 comments:

A Woman Of No Importance said...

Some day my Prince will come - 'hair like fifteen grey Brillo Pads in a full Kevin Keegan mullet'.

Would you be prepared to pass him a love note for me, JW?! I promise to send you nail polish suitable for Le Weepette if you do? x

Mr London Street said...

I go past the same people on my walk to the funbus every day.

If only the woman I walk past after around two minutes (going past the casino) - who is a lesbian and clearly knows it - could be introduced to the woman I walk past after around seven minutes (as I walk through the square with the town hall on my right) - who is a lesbian but I suspect doesn't know it - the world would be a much lovelier place for them both. I sometimes wish one of them might catch the later bus so they can meet.

Julia Ball said...

Ahhh I have to admit, that yes I do play, but not on a tram, it is on the school walk.

So we leave the house, there are two cats, the huge ginger Tom is mine, the other one time shares me and is a beautiful tobacco brown, I am half way up the hill when I hear him meowwing at me, I am too afraid to let him walk up the road with me because there lies the path to flat catedness. So back down I go.

On the way back down, i see the woman that where high heeled boots even when it is dripping hot and who doesn't believe in child seats for her children. We also have a "new guy" he looks like he is a stranger to the shower and his clothes to the washing machine, he looked spaced out at 0836, but frighteningly, so does the nursery child he is carting around with him.

By now, I have depostited said timeshared cat back into house and the kids from the senior school are on their way. We have, in no particular order, fat tart, this , girl is overweight, (Ok let he who is without sin blah blah blah) but she is wearing a skirt nay a belt that barely covers her ample bottom and far too stretched out lack wooly tights! It is fecking 20 degrees today you muppet and did your mother see you what you had on when you left the house?

Next we have this boy, I say boy, he must be in the 6th by now, such magnificently wild hair, I want to touch it, but I know that arrest and a spell on the sex offenders register beckon if I do.

Then we have hoards of nondescript wannabees with their uniform or variations thereof wandering up the slope to school.

Now we get to the mums and carers. Obviously we have the "musthavebeenupat5toslaponallthat makeup" mums who totter up to school on the days that they are not driving their Chelsea Tractors, phone in their ear or they are texting, with their miserable spawn traipsing behind them, then you get a few slobby Mummys (I count myself in this category!) who have got up, seen to the animals and kids and havnt even had time to look in the mirror. Oh and then lastly, the piece de resistance, bringing up the rear (and they usually do!) the CHAV's Oh my lord, their average age is about 21, slicked back hair, badly bottled blonde, they wear the same style of clothes winter and summer with the nasty trainers, texting as they push their latest benefit increase in the most expensive buggy on the market, whilst their eldest trots along side them "Oh Chardonnay, keep up, the Social Worker is coming at 10 and I need to get the smell of weed out of the flat !

So there you have it, a full house, sometimes I am shy a few players but I can generally get a good score, if I can be bothered to look.

Marie said...

My commute is bed to computer via bathroom. I manage to switch on computer, monitor and modem without dribbling toothpaste on the floor = instant full house.

Jaywalker said...

Marie - you see, our bingo evening has INSPIRED me. I am all bingoed up.

Julia Ball said...

Thats fantastic Marie, I am a terrible dribbler of the toohpaste, have nearly learnt not to dress until teeth brushed :-)

Helena said...

I drive the 24 miles to work. I tried getting the tube for several months but it costs about 70% more and takes 4 hrs a day v 2.5hrs driving. I only feel a bit bad.
I did see the police cleaning up a huge pool of blood on someone's doorstep in Chelsea today tho.
I often feel like my day's missing something if I don't encounter the emergency services sorting last night's mess on my way to work at 6am. And I like to score points on the number of audi drivers driving right up yr arse, at 5mph over the limit flashing their lights like yr going too slow.
And I have a complicated scoring system for people who wave 'the hand of invincibility' in front of my bonnet as they randomly step in front of a moving vehicle, wearing black, at night.
*sigh* I guess it's not the same when yr not on pubic (sic) transport. I do miss it.

Kate said...

i bike with the 3yo on the back so i only have one commuter with me. but somehow i always end up behind the same gray sonata waiting for the light to change. i pass 10 billion hasidics (bonus points for a woman in a pink headwrap or a girl wearing something other than navy, white, gray or light pink), hippie parents, snooty rich people, someone who doesn't see me and tries to run me over or take my right of way. And my fellow commuter must spend the entire time asking questions that I can't answer both because i have no idea what she is talking about and because i can't hear her as we zip past traffic. "Why is there a pushing baby at my school?" "Where does the girl with the eye bandage saijfeawi?" "Why does the jweiejf boy do lkdibilijs when Carole says lkjfilseijef?" "What was that?" "What did that say?" "Why is that a statue?" (among others)

katyboo1 said...

There is a lady who goes to school every morning with her kid and who is not small. She was wearing semi translucent footless tights in black with huge white granny pants underneath and a t shirt that barely skimmed her navel. Teamed with gold gladiator sandals and a bosom Rigby and Peller would weep over.
It was astonishing. I nearly crashed the children into the hedge.

GingerB said...

I'll just have to share with you my favorite games (you can play in court or at any large gathering) since I don't actually take public transportation often.

I like to play "what drug of choice" and "name that mental illness" based on observation alone. "Try it, I think you enjoy the fun.

Anonymous said...

Oh boy, I get the overland train in from Surrey to London Waterloo and there are lots of characters on there.

The girl who eats wierd smelly stuff from tuperware boxes inappropriate for that time of the morning. I dread her sitting next to me.

Several men with no manners who push women out of the way to get seats or squish me into the window as their paper takes over half the seat.

The men who sit with their legs splayed akimbo and also take over half my seat - often the same men as above.

The spotty first jobber who reads the sun and sits with page 3 open for 10 minutes while he picks his spots - I don't want to see Suzie from Essex's breats at 7.30am or be subjected to your raw spots euch!

The letchy man from Claygate who seems destined to sit by me and then turns and looks at me and smiles, creepy... we should all just keep our heads in our book/paper on the Surrey train, does he not know that?

I think those are all the main suspects but there are plenty of other minor characters, too many to mention here.

Thanks for the opportunity to vent!

Sarah
@scotdownsouth

Mya said...

Pissing man, facing oncoming traffic, as always. Assorted reptiles squashed into the road. Annoying bitch in the breadvan who believes it acceptable to block the road for ten minutes whilst peddling her week-old, teeth-snapping baked efforts.A hippy. A crone. A wheezing holiday maker on early morning jog,looking worried. Probably trying to remember the telephone number for emergency services.Various cheerful, apple cheeked, drunken farmers, waving down from their tractor cabs.
All this, and I don't even commute.

Please take a surreptitious pic of brillo hair man - I need him in my life.
Mya x

hexenundschnecken said...

Hope you can find this among all the comments: yippiee! you said I'd won your Mark Sarvas novel which I really, really wanted & can't afford! I mean, I'm not really holding my breath, considering your post office aversion, but still, here's my address:
Suzanne Walter
Ayuntamiento Boqueixón
Forte S/N
15881 Boqueixón
A Coruna
Spain

Jaywalker said...

Yay hexenundschnecken! I will beat the post office for YOU. Actually I think there might be enough stamps in the house for European postage without braving that den of horror.

Anonymous said...

I wonder if I'm on any one else's commuter bingo card. And whether I'm worth more points the more dishevelled/food-stained/anti-gravity-hair-styled/wearing-slippers-out-by-mistake I am?

Anonymous said...

bus ride confessional - I like to throw small bits of my Metro newspaper into the hair of the carefully coiffed or onto the back shoulders of the couture clad commuters on my train.

Red Shoes said...

I've been missing from blogworld for nearly 2 weeks, while my realworld spins furiously on it's axis. I have missed you so. O, Jaywalker. I have such a blogcrush on you. Even now, after all this time. All you have to do is say "hair like fifteen grey Brillo Pads" or "hairy hairy grey hairy shoulders"and I melt.

Adoooore the fashionista queenie meltdown. Wish I had been there to witness.

Bingo said...

I found love on a Bingo hall!! 15 years later I can tell you that it's possible! You gott love Bingooo!!! = )

Laura and Ben said...

On my walk to and from work there are two distinct sections... On Ave Louise we have the designer clad sightings. I like to look out for the old ladies wearing wedge heels. Extra points are awarded for old ladies running in wedge heels.

During the second part of the walk - once back in good old Saint Gilles (or The Ghetto as my workmates lovingly call it) - I keep my eye out for Jesus of Chaussee de Charleroi. He's amazing and, indeed, very jesusy. If I happen to go past our local shop I like to keep tabs on the tramp population (sometimes as many as four outside a very small shop - my fave is the transvestite).

Margaret said...

Sometimes I miss commuting just for the crazy. Annoying hipster banjo guy at the Carroll St station because nothing says good morning like bluegrass. Loud Jesus lady, why must you always be so loud? Sexy DJ conductor on the F train ("Stand clear of the closing doors and have yourself a greaaat day"). Going back even further: Wheelchair-bound Vietnam vet at the top of the 7th Ave escalator to the LIRR ("Vietnam vet, won't you please help" in a sing-songy, slightly twangy yet somehow not annoying voice) taking me to the 5:27 with the five-seater poker group. On the 8:11 express to Penn Station, little Al Pacino guy with perfect hair and girl with gorgeous long brown braid and beautiful shoes.

Juci said...

Just some old Flemish voters of Vlaams Belang, eyeing suspiciously the black youth in the back having an animated discussion in French about their new phones or girls or something frivolous like that. This is Flanders, baby, no matter we're only 5 minutes from the metro. You don't get to speak French without getting some serious evil looks.

Jaywalker said...

Woman / Mya - I will try and take a picture of brillopadman next time I see him. He's a rare sighting though.

MLS - what's with the finely tuned lesbian antennae?

Julia - wow. Your bingo is elaborate. And slightly frightening.

Helena - ah, yes, the hand of invincibility. Magical.

Kate - ha. And if you try and fudge the answers does she get really irritable?

katyboo - surreptitious photo?

Ginger - I'm starting that the minute I get on the tram tonight.

Oh Sarah; I had sympathy retching when I read yours.

Mya - all human life is there. In your field. Unfortunately.

Anon#1 - I'm sure you are. I wonder if anyone checks out whether I'm faredodging on any given day?

Anon#2 - Nice touch. I like it. Of course there is noone coiffed or coutured on the tram, so scraps of paper might be an improvement.

Red Shoes - yay, you're back! Hope all well, lovely. Yes, the fashion meltdown was high quality public transport entertainment.

Bingo - marvellous. There's hope for us all.

L&B - but I go down Chaussée de Charleroi every day and have never seen Jesus! Is he hiding from me? Where do you usually spot him?

Margaret - yours actually sounds quite picturesque.

Poor, poor Juci in Flanders. I can see why you wouldn't want to get on that bus too often.

Kate said...

if i say i don't know, she now insists "YOU DO KNOW! YOU DO! TELL ME! YOU KNOW!"

Mr London Street said...

My antenna aren't very finely tuned. These aren't borderline cases. You wouldn't need to be Miss Marple to work out that Miss Marple would be in with a chance.

Mr London Street said...

Check my blog out. You've won something.

mo.stoneskin said...

Most people don't realise how dangerous sneezing is. A quiet sneeze may kill a fairy. A medium sneeze will kill a dragon. A super-charged turbo sneeze will destroy a universe. One day we'll all day because an alien in another universe sneezed too loudly.

Jaywalker said...

mo - that was you on my tram, wasn't it?

Eireann said...

There's really only one game for me, and that's 'Can I avoid Eileen', the 70-year-old woman who lives in the other half of my semi.

Who's lived there since she was born.

Who peers through her net curtains and then, with much more alacrity that you'd expect from a 70-year-old, appears in her garden (I have to walk through it to go out) and scolds me for leaving my gate open ("it's NASTY. Only nasty peopled don't close the gate) when clearly it was the kebab-shop-flyer delivery boy who'd committed this egregious sin.

Found you recently via Jane Brockett's blog Yarnstorm. I'm in Belgium half the time (near Gent) and in Nottingham the rest. Hi.

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