North South

North South

SOUTH
-Larissa is a wet dream in a size zero
-They make you strip naked to practice nude scenes anyway.
Anecdotes rattle through moving train carriages.
-She's got size 8 feet though and I know she's a lesbian. She's auditioning in crotch fitting flares.
As the Noddy Train splits in half for Cardiff I see a perfectly formed bosom peeling away from me. I crush a custard cream into the melamine table top so biscuit powder crumbs gets stuck in the crack and I want to smear the smudged creamy bit all over a snoring passengers face. All bound for drama school. Pimp my fucking snack.
-I want to be all Lyons corner house at midnight and black eyeliner wandering around big smoke in a big sixties Oxfam coat, not stuck in the Principality! But how do you break in?
-Do you want it in your mouth?
-I've never come on a train before.
-OK, so you want to know who we are looking for. But did you know I was the voice that launched Milk Tray? You remember, they had a square Turkish Delight. Lesbians always get parts or if not make great movement coaches.
-I can't afford to be lesbian. Economically it's not viable, you're talking about a minority group.
-Spoken to the sound of a ripped fishnet crotch, do you hear?
-Are we anywhere near the Paddington throat yet?

-Christ Violet not more vomit in Carriage B!
-Some old tramp's in there, getting all the gravy. He's been on the cider since Carlisle. They think he's that one off the telly
-Does being thick come wi' being young now? Gis a finger roll cupcake.

-I love to watch your chicken pox scars flicker under the light of the fire exit sign
-Are you flirting with me?
-Are we going to have sex?
-Doesn't that come after I get my acceptance letter?
-Not usually.

NORTH
later
We join up with the train from Cardiff and those same big boobs bound for Llanelli are coming towards me. I lose the disguise, put down the cigarillo, take off the plastic nose and move up a carriage.
-You taste of raw bacon.
-Welcome to my world!
-Do you have to flash your bisexuality in my face? Can't you just wear a badge?
-It costs 45 grand to train in musical theatre. It's like, here have my parents' house.
-Ever felt your face skid down a rail track, like a train carriage careering towards the sidings, Arabidopsis thaliana clogging up your gob and the leaves of the weed filling your mouth, with everything sliding down your face?
-I can't believe I got graded below average on inner life!
-They are marking you against industry standards.
-Bloody Connie. I hate her.
-You know they used to sell hand baked biscuits here, wrapped in cellophane. I was the voice of a plump ripened fruit. You remember, fruited Shrewsbury's buttered or plain? That was me!
-So you're in the profession?
-Just writing my diary. Standard industry practice.
Crispy, fruity and soft. Satisfying at high speed.
-I've got some melted penguin biscuits and those orange and lemon jelly slices with stuck on sugar in my bag.
-Mint cracknell for Christmas then.
-One girl sang Eponine so beautiful, we all cried.
-You got to believe in yourself though.
-Always.
And her tits sagged down to her waist but I sucked them all the same.

-Told you Vi, always quieter on the way home.
-Hardly worth switching on the Burko for.
-Got their rejection slips in their pockets see. Spoils the appetite. Pass us that chutneyed spam bap sweets.