Sniff

September 25, 2010

<sniff>

I glare at the balding little man with a red nose sitting opposite. It is bad enough to be stuck in a stationary train without having to listen to this incessant sniffing.

<sniff>

I’ve had enough.

“Excuse me,” I say. “I had to listen to your wretched sniffing for the last hour. Can’t you just blow your nose?”

Other people in the carriage turn and gawp. He stares at me, unrepentant, and slowly wipes his nose on his sleeve.

I’ve made my point. I sit back satisfied. But then I feel an irrepressible tickle growing within my nose.

<sniff>

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The Streaker

September 11, 2010

If I am going to do it I had better do it soon.

On the pitch a game of cricket that not even the players are interested in meanders through the afternoon. I look around at the boozy crowd and… the TV cameras.

I am going to streak. If I make it past the stewards I should get to the middle. But when should I take of my pants?

Stop procrastinating, lets do it! I head for the fence.

A huge roar goes up around the ground. I see a naked man sprinting across the outfield, genitals flapping.

Selfish git.