Fancy seein' you...

He washed these words of stunning but unwanted wisdom down with the dregs of the lager, reached into his bag to pull out the three remaining tins clinging to life and eachother by the stretched remains of plastic packing.

"D'ya wan one?"

I was still silently agreeing that you certainly do know what you are getting with McDee's, but the shock of Curly offering me some of his alcohol snatched me from my thoughts.

"Er, no, no thanks, Curly, too early for me...Doesn't it get cold?"

"Lager s'posed ta be cold, ya shite"

"No, the burger, Curly. Doesn't the burger get cold..by the time you get on the train?"

"Aye, it does, but it's still cheaper than the shite they sell on the train".

I did not know at the time we having this groundbreaking debate on the culinary habits of Curly, as we had drawn away from the London terminus and I had looked at all the graffitti, all the tags sprayed on every piece of available space, thinking that the government's policy on education must be working; the more recent spray painted work definately displaying a more creative use of colour and correct spelling. I did not know then that at another mainline station two trains had collided and some of those that paid extortionate yearly fares to stand in discomfort on the way to those manic offices had paid the ultimate price. The politicians were already dusting off their "tragic loss", "Heartfelt condolences to the relatives of the victims of this tragic accident" speeches. The ones they had used for the last time a signal failed, or a bomb went off. Mobile phones rang in the crumpled silent blackened belly of those carriages and remained unanswered, the electronic message services recording the desperate inquiries of worried relatives; messages that would never be heard. All that running around, going into work with a bit of a 'flu, working those extra hours, staying late, the pension packages, insurance policies, all their plans. What really matters in the end? One minute you are going to bed after a full evening's satisfying entertainment: Pets in Practice, Ready Steady Changing Grooms, Celebrity Crime Watch, getting up the next morning to commute, quick goodbye to the kids that they don't hear, on the train like you always do, thinking about the weekend, that game of golf with the guys and bang. A red light is missed, wrong type of rain obscuring the signal, wrong type of manager at the top of the industry, and you are not going to be standing in your usual spot at the local, or rushing round the supermarket on a Saturday morning stressing about whether you have bought the right cereal for your teenage daughter, the one who never heard you say goodbye when you left the house that morning.

"Ay, the burgers on these here trains are shite, as is the booze, why I always bring ma own along with ma burger, an if ma lager's no good 'nough fer you, ya southern shite, then it's more for me ta..."

"Colin"

"Ya mean Curly, dinna push ya luck"

"Colin"

"wha..?

"Shut up"