We were due to convene at the train station at eight a.m. and hop direct to Paddington, then onto the Express to Heathrow. My “partner in crime” was waiting, we each had a suitcase, tool-case and briefcase, mad Pete decided he would bring along his wife’s hand luggage, absolutely bloody brilliant, now we have two young guys in the entourage, one who is gay who looks straight, and the straight guy carrying a Louis Vuitton vanity case who looked and was acting gay. I pointed my finger at him and threatened, “if you score before I do, i’l rip you apart”, our joking soon stopped, time was tight and there still wasn’t any sign of Bill and Steve, what the hell were we to do? 

Ok Paul, think! Think! initiative! 

Fortunately, I had our relevant travel documentation.

That’s it Pete, we are going, get on the train, you tart, no buts, just get on the bloody train.

Settling for coach D, we squeezed into an empty table set, placed luggage in racks, and stared at each other knowingly whilst we waited a while before heading off to the Buffet, neither of us not wanting to be seen as desperate for a drink that early in the morning.
Pushing each other about like girls, we fell into the bar area, and as if by magic, so appeared Bill & Steve, “where have you been you tossers?, he shouted out loud in his cockney drawl, “we’ve been waiting in First Class for you”

“Do you think sixteen cans will see us ok all the way up to the smoke, hey?” Says Bill.

SIXTEEEN? ur avin a giraffe!