Honestly. I don’t know what happened!

Apparently it was sometime after midnight at London Bridge station’s main concourse. You know they have a burger stand there? Well, it’s always busy late at night around the weekends. Friday night is by far the worst because the queues are full of people who have either been at work real late, or they’ve gone straight to the pub at 5pm, and have skipped dinner and any of the other social niceties you’d expect of civilised city folk. Oh no, we are taking suited and booted dudes from the nearby banks and legal companies, who reek of booze and cigarettes.

You know the kind, I’m sure you’ve seen them staggering, half shot at nine on a weeknight, barely able to walk a straight line up the platform. My boyfriend saw one fall on the tracks once, jumped down to save him too! This old geezer, he was so far gone he didn’t even say ‘thanks’. Nothing at all, no recognition of what just happened. He just staggered onto the next train. Who knows if he ever got home? Bet he did though, ‘cause those drunk fuckers are like homing pigeons. Still, if I’d have been there I’d have let the train hit him. But that’s a story for another time.

So I was queuing for a cheeseburger at London Bridge, ‘cause I get a total craving for the sweet taste of fake meat stuffs after long day. You know, those shifts I work are crappy hours. And no matter what time I start I always seem to end up working right through breaks, and taking overtime, because you never know when they’ll offer you the hours again. If I’m lucky enough to make it to the station 10 minutes before my last train, I can’t relist a furtive burger for the way home. And since they cost half nothing, I figure I can afford it every once in a while.

So here I am queuing, and I’m totally watching the clock in case I have to bolt for my train before I get to the front of the queue. And this Guy, tall, suit wearing, just muscles in in front of me. Practically pushes me over, and starts raving about how I skipped ahead of him, and that girls don’t deserve special treatment, thinking they can just push ahead, expecting men to hold doors for them etc. etc. He didn’t stop there, but I didn’t hear any more. Reports say I swung round, and from a 45 degree angle (because he was considerably taller than me) punched him right up the nose. Apparently he went down like a sack of shit, blood everywhere. The police were called and I spent the night in a cell somewhere in Southwark.

I only got off because he wouldn’t press charges. So now I’m barred from Burger King.


Best thing is, I don’t remember any of it.

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