Well I nevver. I seen some funny fings down ‘ere the like of which could make a story or two in a book and no mistake, but this has really gotta take the bloomin biscuit.
All sorts of fings get left ‘ere on the London Underground. I got a ‘undred pairs of spectacles and a drawer full of ‘earing aids and bags and bags and bags of false teef – see no evil, ‘ear no evil, speak no evil.
And I got diamond rings fit for a princess or a queen, and necklaces and earrings. And fousands of library cards for libraries what don’t exist no more, and a album of wedding fotos, and a wedding dress wiv a red wine stain on the bodice. And a canoe one day, but no paddle, like somebody’d been up shit-creek; and a foetus I got, sloshing around in a Kilner jar, and it looks like a mermaid wiv its fish tail trailing in the yellow sediment at the bottom.
And a guitar I found, wiv only three strings, and drumsticks but no drum, and the complete works of Shakespeare in two ‘ardback volumes, and a manikin, sittin as bold as you like wivout any of its clothes on and a pink parking ticket stuck in its stiff pink hand.
And everyfing Jimi Hendrix ever released on vinyl, that’s all there, waiting to be collected, and lots more besides.
But like I said, this has got to top the lot, for I ain’t nevver been left wiv a cow before, and it’s lowing like it’s in pain and Bob, the stationmaster, well he says it wants milking don’t it, stands to reason, and he hands me a white enamel bucket as if I should know what to do and as if it’s my job to do it.
‘There’s a fiver in it for you, and all the milk you can pull,’ Bob says.
And I ain’t one for passing up the chance of easy money so I looks at him and shrugs. He’s the boss after all and I figure, well, how hard can it be?
March 25, 2014: Someone left it behind.
Well I nevver. I seen some funny fings down ‘ere the like of which could make a story or two in a book and no mistake, but this has really gotta take the bloomin biscuit.
All sorts of fings get left ‘ere on the London Underground. I got a ‘undred pairs of spectacles and a drawer full of ‘earing aids and bags and bags and bags of false teef – see no evil, ‘ear no evil, speak no evil.
And I got diamond rings fit for a princess or a queen, and necklaces and earrings. And fousands of library cards for libraries what don’t exist no more, and a album of wedding fotos, and a wedding dress wiv a red wine stain on the bodice. And a canoe one day, but no paddle, like somebody’d been up shit-creek; and a foetus I got, sloshing around in a Kilner jar, and it looks like a mermaid wiv its fish tail trailing in the yellow sediment at the bottom.
And a guitar I found, wiv only three strings, and drumsticks but no drum, and the complete works of Shakespeare in two ‘ardback volumes, and a manikin, sittin as bold as you like wivout any of its clothes on and a pink parking ticket stuck in its stiff pink hand.
And everyfing Jimi Hendrix ever released on vinyl, that’s all there, waiting to be collected, and lots more besides.
But like I said, this has got to top the lot, for I ain’t nevver been left wiv a cow before, and it’s lowing like it’s in pain and Bob, the stationmaster, well he says it wants milking don’t it, stands to reason, and he hands me a white enamel bucket as if I should know what to do and as if it’s my job to do it.
‘There’s a fiver in it for you, and all the milk you can pull,’ Bob says.
And I ain’t one for passing up the chance of easy money so I looks at him and shrugs. He’s the boss after all and I figure, well, how hard can it be?