Travelling back from up north on the train the other day after a lovely, long Christmas break, I sat at a table for four people which I had all to myself until two posh people got on just before York. They sat at the table beside me, she was reading Tatler and he was on his laptop surfing comparison websites to buy a 10 seater jet. I kid you not.They didn't speak to each other apart from a couple of exchanges, this one came just after the train pulled out of the station.
Him, cluelessly: "So is your father not right wing, then?"
Her, uppity: "Of course daddy's right wing. Why wouldn't he be right wing? He's my daddy; of course he's right wing."
They may have been right wing, they may have been posh, but from another of their exchanges it was made clear that they'd got on the train without tickets and they didn't offer to pay when the ticket man came round. Which means they nicked the train's wi-fi and electricity to power his laptop. I hate posh people, I really do.
They may have been right wing, they may have been posh, but from another of their exchanges it was made clear that they'd got on the train without tickets and they didn't offer to pay when the ticket man came round. Which means they nicked the train's wi-fi and electricity to power his laptop. I hate posh people, I really do.
5 comments:
This should be on the Guardian letters page.
Go for it Nora.
Hope his jet runs into a passing cloud of mallards...
That is so funny! It was like watching your own play!
How come they didn't have to show their tickets. or were they so posh they got someone else to do that for them?
No they got on the train without tickets (you can do that on grand central trains) and when the ticket man came round, he said to her: "Shall we buy tickets?" and she shook her empty head. I swear I heard the wind whistle when she did that.
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