Meanwhile in Clapham

Dandruff was sprinkled liberally along the pin stripe shoulders of the business type gent who’s frame and luggage took up two seats on the train approaching Clapham Junction., struggling with too much Samsonite and duty free he uncoiled from the cramped seating and moved toward the automatic doors as the train came to a juddering halt at the platform opposite a sign which purported this particular rail location to be the busiest in Europe., or was that the world?

Idiot B watched the unfolding theatre of one man’s struggle with public transport as the doors hissed pneumatically open while the pre-recorded blandishments of letting people off the train first fell on deaf ears.

SW11 bustled as only it can – a cosmopolitan seam of humanity where the minority was the majority , Gael, Gall, Caribbean, Antipodean, thronging around their adopted home… Idiot B guessed that pinstripe man was one of the few genuine Englishmen within his data capture and followed him , well he had nothing else to do that London afternoon…as per normal.

Random thought – do arachnids possess a web address?

Down the stairs along the underpass and through the ticket barrier – populated with the ticket people in today’s uniform of blue and red ---along the mini shopping mall where fast food outlets sold obesity at a knock down price. .Idiot B considered alternative advertising for such establishments – Get your cholesterol here! Fur up your systems with our sh**!…mmm maybe not., the merits of reality advertising had always amused, and it was a private game he often played., and sometimes won.