h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

On the train home. I'm fed up with the piffle coming from a guy with an ear-piece and mobile phone. For 20 minutes I don't notice it. Then it starts to attack my eardrums. I move.

Big mistake.

The train ispacked. Why? Friday might ? A train from Plymouth to Leeds. (I'm writing this Ellen Levey style, typing into Psion 5 as it happens around me, I'm yet to get a digital camera to take pics as I go along. See New York Times, or was it the Washington Post Friday 24th October)

So I find a seat, settle down. Now I get heavy metal in my left ear. Not the Full Monty. This is heavy metal played by bees. Why? Because the sound is so small, so distant. I can see this tiny band of bees with shaggy dog hair and limp wings plugging away at their guitars, the lead singer giving deep throat to the microphone while the bass player accidentally stabs the lead guitarist with his stinger. It falls out his arse, pumps poison into his mate and the two of them collapse to the floor. They appear blissfully unaware that they are about to expire.

Huh! Looking up. It's stopped.

The moral of the story. Bug a writer and he'll have something to write about.