Oh, I don't think so sunshine

Very much enjoyed the overheard conversation this morning. I say overheard, but he was willingly sharing it.

Knowing London, it was probably improv theatre of some kind.

I especially liked how the posh Putney folk ran away up the platform in panic, but Ginger Beard and myself leaned in.

'I'm not spending a single second with that fucking evil bitch.'

'I will no longer dance to all of her tunes!'

'I can't go round there Mum; I'll kick the shit out of her family.'

Lovely man. And a real treat to get the impression that he is single. Unfortunately I did not have an opportune moment to request his number.

So unfair.

SLEEP OF THE WEEK!

Yet again, someone has fallen asleep around Nia Edwards. Nia - I can only assume that you use up all of your fascinating conversation on me.

This is Maurice. I've made him massive. He's probably also made himself massive.

A few things are going on here.

1) He's just been to an all you can eat buffet and consumed twice his weight in chicken wings. Throughout, he cleverly swiped the occasional chicken wing into his bag. He is now hugging his booty closely for numerous reasons:

A) Warmth

B) To keep the great memories of lunch close

C) To remind himself how great dinner will be.

2) The woman to his right is moment's away from fully kicking off that shoe, and seductively caressing his shin with her bare foot. She can smell the chicken, and she's hungry.

But look at him; Maurice ain't sharing that chicken with anyone.