Wee.

"What is this?" I hear you ask. Only a day after my normal weekly Blog posting, here I am with an impromptu start of the week update. Let me explain....

This afternoon I headed out of the office as normal to visit Dad in his nursing home in Plumstead. I got on the train at Cannon Street as I am wont to do when I am working in central London. The train got as far as Deptford when a gang of around eight (I could not be certain as they sat behind me) Chavs got on and proceeded to brag to each other how they had not paid for a ticket, and that they would "shank" (stab) any inspector who asked for it. They then decided to compete with each other to see who could get the most volume out of their mobile phones by playing music at each other. Amazingly, one of the ring leaders, who was probably about fourteen years old, played "Kung Fu Fighting" by Carl Douglas - I was dumb struck, as the song was a chart hit when most likely his parents were kids. I ended up despairing - there were too many of them to challenge, and sorely regretting the loss of my Glock 17 pistol (in the early to mid 90's I was a keen Police / Combat Pistol shooter, before the 1997 UK handgun ban). I had Captain Tweed / Charles Bronson crossover visions and thought better of it. Pick the time and the place.

I got off the train at Woolwich Arsenal Station, resolving to continue my journey by bus. I waited at the stop outside the old Woolwich Equitable head office building, opposite the station, where I was accosted by a smack head wanting spare change. I suggested that he go and copulate with himself, and if he approached anyone else at the bus stop, he would see the end of my size 12 steel toecapped boot. The scumbag slunk off in search of easier prey. A suitable bus then arrived - the notorious 380 single decker to Belmarsh high security prison. I don't have much of an idea what a majority of the inmates are like, but looking at their visitors, they have to be exceptionally scary.

Once successfully on the bus, I found a seat; at present I have a slight cold and my sense of smell is not what it normally is - a pity as it would have saved me from an extremely unpleasant experience; when I sat down, I immediately realised that the previous occupant of the seat had relieved themselves in situ - the whole of the seat was absolutely soaked in urine. My freshly laundered trousers were soaked, as was my underwear. Utterly disgusting. This evening my clothing has been in a high temperature wash in an attempt to remove the noxious reek of wee. I would gladly give a Semtex enema to the culprit if I could ever find them. I am not best pleased. Suggestions below, if you please.