(continued from (the day before) yesterday)
Yes, yes, I know I promised you the conclusion to this story yesterday, but I had to make a quick work trip abroad with work. Unfortunately, the country I went to does not appear to have any Internets that you can use. It is a very nice place to look at, but the language is pretty much indecipherable. Fortunately, most of the locals have a passable grasp of English, despite a quite ridiculous accent when attempting our language. If you fancy taking a trip there yourself, take a look here.
Anyway, the story. I have never slept in a train station. It is not a life experience I was particularly looking forward to, but this was the reality of the situation. I was a bit drunk, and I did not want to get robbed or bummed to death in my sleep, so I did what any normal person would do and put my wallet, phone, and change into my underpants. Then I did my belt up as tight as it would go, and tried to get some sleep.
I could not sleep though, due to the morbid fear of someone managing to get into my pants and thinking that the loose change was some sort of payment for services not yet rendered.
Also, the seats in Paddington are not conducive to a restful nights sleep. Which is understandable, if you are trying to stop vagrants from setting up home, as I suppose Paddington is. But I am not a vagrant, I am just a spectacularly stupid man who wanted to sleep for a few hours.
As I sat there with my head bowed, trying for all the world to get just a few moments sleep, someone sat next to me.
I smelt him long before I saw him, and as he sat he mumbled something in what I assumed to be Arabic. He would get up every few minutes, go for a walk in his tramp suit, then come back and mumble again. Imagine your most annoying fidgety ex-girlfriend and then make her smelly and homeless. It was just like that, but without the spooning.
About halfway through my stint in the chair, I was awoken by the mumbling tramp.
“Hey, HEY, where my stuff?”
“What?”
“You got my stuff? Where my stuff?!”
“I do not have your stuff.” I answered, assuming he was referring to the plastic bag he had been carrying earlier.
“WHERE MY STUFF!”
“Look, I do NOT have your fucking stuff, so fucking stop asking me the where the fuck your fucking stuff is, I do not fucking know!” I wittily retorted, as I do not do well with a lack of sleep.
With that, he wandered off again, I assumed to look for his stuff.
A few minutes later I was again woken, but this time by someone altogether more pleasant.
“Excuse me Sir, sorry to bother you, but this gentleman claims that you have his stuff?”
“Officer, I assure you I do not have his stuff.” I responded to the two policemen now stood in front of me, “Trust me, if I was going to steal something it would be something good, like jewellery or a phone, not a tramps carrier bag.”
“Where my stuff!” added the tramp.
“Sorry Sir, we’ll leave you to it.” concluded the policeman.
With that he an his policeman colleague took the tramp in a suit away, and out of the station.
The remaining hour or so was uneventful and I bought a coffee and boarded my train home. Everything seemed to finally sorting itself out, right up until the point where I got fined for having a now out-of-date train ticket.
{ 19 comments… read them below or add one }
I take it you stashed his fucking stuff in your underpants
which is the best location for fucking stuff, in my opinion.
So what DO tramps carry around in their carrier bags then?
You might hear from the police in about 6 years time when they finally solve that crime
You could’ve gotten a BJ out of that by pretending you were holding his stuff to ransom, the ransom being a BJ, then when you shot your goo blanc into his matted hair you could laugh and explain that you really are honest when you say you don’t have his stuff. Then tell him to get a fucking job, cum-face bum. Of course, you’d do all this while respecting his human rights.
Oh stop your moaning. As if the rest of us haven’t spent a night lost, cold, drunk in a train station being acosted by a tramp. Consider it a right of passage, and be glad the cop didn’t knick you for taking the tramps stuff.
i HATE the train mongeys who charge for that- utter cunts i say.
I just hope you removed the money from your pants before the train conductor asked for it. Cheesey tenner, anyone?
I bet you DID have his stuff.
It really is a sorry tale of woe.
Anyway, got to go and the snadwich lady is here…
Proof.
I think Jonny B has stumbled on to something here. Crimes solved by Google. Is there no end to their talents. Now go give the poor tramp his stuff back will you. And while your at it give that nice Mr W his watch back.*
* that last bit only really works if you follow Jonny’s link from the comment above…
Duck – Absolutely not, that CCTV footage was faked.
Anna – That is a good question, perhaps we should all ask one?
Shambo – I do wonder if he got a crime number.
Glammer – Thanks, that made a little bit of sick come up.
TheBoy – I would rather have done it at eighteen, rather than at twenty-twelve.
Eliza – Exactly, it was the perfect end to a perfect night.
Jo – Some of the change fell out when I stood up, but apart from that…
Katy – Stealing from a tramp is one of the few lows I have not stooped to. Yet.
JonnyB – Do not believe everything you read on the Internet. Especially here.
Dr J – I only took it so I could teach him how to tell the time.
See, that’s where you’re wrong Angry. We’ve got internets, we’ve got the wide band ones and the diallings kind. I’m given to understand that if you pay some money to BT and park in Macdonald’s car park you can use the wide one as much as you like. I can see how a foreigner like you could get confused, though.
It could have been much, much worse. The police could have asked to see your identification, you would have reached into your underpants for your wallet, they would have then beaten you with their billy clubs, then taken you to the police station…
He probably would have spooned if you had helped him find his stuff. You have to give you know to receive.
Just stole a laptop
WHERE’S MY FUCKING STUFF????
Great retort to tramp and the officers.
not only livid, but witty as well. always remember to hang onto your stuff… LOL
Could have been worse, you could have been stuck in a train station in Welsh Wales with a Welsh tramp – they have them there as well apparently, and tramps.
you know, it could have been so so much worse than that…