The Thud of Blinking.

I’ve complained a lot about the noise that awful people generally make on trains. Loud ringtones, playing music loudly on their phones, raspy breathing, the thud of blinking, etc, and it’s a terrible thing to sit through. You’re on a train, you’ve paid a fortune on the fare and yet nowhere on the ticket does it say that other humans will also be onboard. Humans are the worst. Worse than Klingons in this scribe’s educated opinion. Making noise on a train used to be the most appallingly selfish thing I thought those cunts could ever done do but those cunts have come up with done doing something worse. Done doing exactly the same thing but in a hospital. This utter fuck (I now don’t give a shit what’s wrong with her and I despise what’s keeping her alive-ish) thought it was fine to be in a hospital ward with a) her phone on, b) the ringtone volume set to Paisley, c) the ringtone as the theme to X-Factor and d) her skin not in a suitcase and her face not in a cat that’s on fire. How utterly thoughtless. There are people in agony in that ward. I doubt they need to be loudly reminded that Simon Cowell is a rich bastard and that there is a person in the ward that is just an ordinary, household, common or garden bastard.

Even worse was the idiot in the “Family Room”. The “Family Room” is there for people that the patient doesn’t really want to see. Ever. I’ve spent a lot of time there recently. Yesterday, that room was full of utter cunts; my words, not theirs. They were all deeply Christian, deeply numerous and deeply singing loudly like a pack of mad shit. They continually sang a song called God Has A Son And His Name Is Jesus. At the end of the day, if this is true, then Mary, Mother of God, wasn’t asked to have God’s child and therefore that is RAPE. GOD RAPED A TEENAGE GIRL. Imagine if I had actually said that to them! Then I’d have something to write about in my blog. Sorry.

I did Covent Garden Comedy Club last night and it was fun. The line-up was as good as I’ve worked with in a while. Roger Monkhouse, Seymour Mace and Richard Herring were all excellent. I thought I was OK except at one point where I thought I was going to faint on stage. It was hot and I felt ill. Still, the world’s drunkest man with sick on his shoe bought me a drink that he drank for me so that was good.

Dave was good last night. That episode of I’m Alan Partridge was on. The one with Alien Judge. Excellent. Then I watched the first 25 minutes of Transformers on DVD. Michael Bay is a cup of AIDS. It was Bernie Mac’s swan song robot film. How sad.