The Last Train To Evolution Has Gone.

Ah, the train. Where would my blood pressure be without it?

After last night's gig in Reading I travelled back home by train. It was bad enough on the way there with commuters pushing and running and throwing all their dignity away to get a seat like that was the only way they could survive. If they don't get a seat on the 7.28 from Paddington then THEY WILL DIE. Get out of my way! I have a disease and the only cure is a seat. Somehow. I know I'm a grown adult with family and friends and maybe even a lover but I will risk them all thinking far less of me and show the world who I really am, a fucking prick, as long as I get a seat. I know I shouldn't be pushing people or shoving people or doing that half-walk half-run thing because it makes me look like I am insane but there's a seat on a train at stake here. You know? A SEAT on a TRAIN. The holy grail of commuting. It is worth dying for because without it I will die anyway. Or I'll have to stand for a bit and I don't really like standing for a bit. Right. The platform's been announced. I'll just look at the picture of my baby on my phone, apologise to it and then push every fucker out of my way as I foam at the mouth, bark, scream and embarrass myself all in the name of sitting down between Paddington and Slough. A 15 minute trip that no man could have the stamina to stand for. Push the old lady, knee the old bloke, blu-tac under the bum, I'm sorted.

Someone should write a comedy routine about that. Maybe if I could condense it to 140 characters or less then I could enter the Highlight Joke Competition on Twitter, a competition for ordinary people to tell jokes in the hope of winning £5000. Well, ordinary people and several professional comedians. I'm sure that's cheating.

Yes, the journey there was bad but that was nothing compared to the trip back. In a recent blog I wrote about the interesting (not to mention incredibly obvious) ways that the media treats religions and the way the people in that religion actually are. Basically, I was in Doha hanging out with Arab Muslims and, would you believe it, they were all very nice people. Not one of them blew me up even a little bit. My point was that jumping to judge on something like religion isn't wise, not because of the wrath that we might suffer but because, let's face it, we're probably wrong. I don't believe in any God but other people do and that doesn't make them stupid.

I would now like to take that back.

About 15 young men were on the train last night and they were all shouting at one another. Really loudly. It was really interrupting my enjoyment of The Gentleman's Review podcast (how am I supposed to know what Yoda thinks if YOU'RE ALL SHOUTING!?) and it was obviously upsetting a lot of other people on the train too. I gave them a few minutes, not to see if they'd quiet down but just to see if someone else...anyone else...on the train might ask them to keep their voices down. No such luck. You're a bunch of spineless cunts, the lot of you. My turn again. I leaned over and asked them politely if they could keep their voices down. They stopped, looked at me and then a few of them told me to sit down. "You've got headphones. You've got headphones. You've got headphones. You've got headphones", said one of them. Well observed but the jokes on you, Sonny Jim. They're earphones not headphones. HA!

"You're talking too loudly, guys. Can you just keep it down, please? I think you're upsetting other people on the train", I pleaded while dreaming of fucking all their mums at their funerals.

Again I was told to sit down. "You've got headphones. You've got headphones", the prick repeated. I loudly said "Fucking cunts" and sat down. This made about half of them stare at me but I stared back and they quickly stopped staring and went back to shouting at one another.

This made things interesting. I've just called 15 lads on a train fucking cunts and they said nothing. I fixed a toilet seat yesterday, I can easily beat up 15 lads. But why didn't they say anything? They outnumber me greatly. And they're wearing suits. And they're not drinking like other groups of lads on trains normally do. Hang on. I get it. THEY'RE RELIGIOUS! Brilliant! This I have to hear. I took out my earphones (they were in my ears) and listened in properly.

Oh, yes. These were the proper religious people that I know. Not the cool, groovy, calm, conversational religious types of Doha. These were much more like the ones I grew up with. People who believe in exactly the same thing arguing long and loud about the tedious fine print. "Say it again, right", said the one that I now considered The Main Cunt. "You call God Allah, right? And You call God Muhammed, right? Well, that's stupid. God is God. Call God God".

Fucking hell.

One of his cunt friends tried to explain. "But Allah is what we call God in Arabic". The Main Cunt just couldn't fathom this.

"You call God God. God speaks English not Arabic".

That's what the incredible idiot said. With no trace of irony or humour (this cunt has no humour) he opened his mouth and actually let those words leave his blind-and-looking-for-the-exit brain.

"There is only one God", he continued. "Just like there is only one Jesus (there isn't. He should go to Brazil. There are loads) and there is only one bible (Erm...what?)"

That is the Christian that I know, people. The loud, damning, insane Christian. The one that is so terrified of dying, and living, that he must make up a little story about how death takes us to Castle Smiles and if you don't believe in everything he says you won't be allowed in and you must live for all eternity at the bottom of the river Fuck and drown for every second from now on for all eternity forever. Oh, and you're on fire. And there's a weasel in you.

Look, I really don't mind anyone believing in anything. I might think it's mad but I don't mind. But my one tiny, wee bugbear with the whole thing is that IF YOU SAY THAT YOU ARE CHRISTIAN THEN BEHAVE LIKE A FUCKING CHRISTIAN. Why, after thousands of years, is that still so hard a concept to grasp?

The only joy I got was when The Main Cunt said "Look, we're all intelligent men..." and I shouted "HA!". They all looked over and I stared back. Yeah, those wimps knew a man who'd fixed a toilet recently when they saw one.

And he wasn't the worst on the train. The worst on the train was everyone else for letting these people shout, scream and obnoxiously and aggressively dictate the atmosphere of the carriage. I'm not looking for a revolution here but for fuck's sake there was a lot more of us than there were of them and absolutely no-one backed me up when I was "told" to sit-down. Our trains are getting worse and, as the train companies have no interest themselves, why don't we push the train companies until they take an interest. Overload the complaints departments until they actually might think about maybe doing something at sometime someday. And in the meantime, don't be afraid to remind people of their manners while in public. Er...make sure they're not nutters first though. I don't want you getting hurt.

The train pulled into Lewisham and I got off. I didn't go to the door nearest me, I wanted to walk through the group of lads to have the last word. "You were too loud and aggressive", I told them and got a lot of "Whatever"'s back but then I pointed to The Main Cunt and said "And watch out for this one. He's trouble".

They went a bit quiet then.

And that's the kind of guy I am. I fix toilets, I stand up to loud people and I'm just a little bit creepy.

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