First class!

I've taken to travelling first class into London, as befits my status as a gentleman and a scholar. This is not a luxury, it is a necessity. Believe me, the types you get in cattle class make you want to throw yourself under the bloody train.

OK, so I'm a complete and utter snob. I admit it. I revel in it. I've fucking earned it mate. I grew up on working class estates, so I know I never want to have anything to do with the proletariat! That's different from being simply uninformed.

Anyway, I digress. The point of this snobby story, is the other night two yobs decided it would be a bit of a larf to come and sit in first class and annoy the other passengers i.e. me and one bloke who was asleep. The yobs might have been expecting to see just how wonderful first class is. They may have imagined huge comfy seats, waiters serving champagne, a fag to make us toast and crumpets beside the glowing embers of an open fire.

Well no, that's not what first class is about. It's (usually) about not having to put up with ignorant dickheads like those guys, so they weren't likely to experience the joys of first class, nor will they ever. You can go travelling mate, but you can never escape yourself!