This morning I was ranting and raving about how I hoped the children of TFL employees would return from school today covered in head and/or pubic lice, that would then go on to infest their entire house.
But now that I've made it home, now that I've a refreshing beer in hand, now that the fucking red mist has finally cleared. I see that it's not TFL and their employees as a whole that deserve the contents of my spleen to be vented in their general direction.
It isn't the fault of bus driver, who refused to let me and many others on, as her bus was already resembling a double-decker tin of sardine-like humans, that I was wishing she fall victim to some previously unknown venereal disease. Nor was it the fault of the high-viz chap standing outside Hatton Cross station, that he was surrounded and being harangued by one hundred and one irate, to the point of foaming around the mouth, commuters.
In fact, it's not even the whole of the unions that organised this strike that deserve the rage of London's commuting public. It is apparently only 1 in 3 balloted members of said unions, blindly following the orders of their commie leaders, that I should be wanting to have all of the commuting public of London's shit fall on from a fucking great height.
To be precise, it is the two filthy, pig-troughing fat-bastards running the RMT and TSSA unions that deserve to have every single person affected by today's strikes, line up and take turns to shag their arses.
Now I see that that curse should be reserved for Bob Crow and Gerry Doherty.
A pox on both your houses you Marxist bastards !
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