I was forced onto public transport this morning. There were weather reports of snow and I didn’t fancy the slide in, nor the ton of rock salt eating at Brutta’s engine. Of course it’s only fucking raining and so mild I could’ve walked into work wearing my shorts. Actually I could’ve been naked in which case my penis and testicles would’ve been visible. Bloody Met Office. Apparently the BBC are so pissed at them they’re talking about ending their 90 year relationship because they’re hopeless at doing the single thing they’re employed to do, to wit, forecasting the weather. You’ll be pleased to hear that despite making a cow’s arse of forecastingtheweather senior managers at the MO have recently netted over a million quid in bonuses. Isn’t this like a Urologist misdiagnosing a patients condition before pissing on them and getting a golden handshake on the basis that he merely works with piss?
So, on the bus this morning in what felt like the middle of the night, it was as black as your hat outside and London was merely sat at the end of the bed scratching its nuts. The only fortuitous aspect of being up at such an obscene hour is that you can get a window seat on the bus but as the passing views are shrouded in darkness ones gaze is forced onto ones fellow passengers, or commuters if you will.
The male contingent are inclined to board the bus and simply watch the world go by (if they can) the odd few will read, usually a book as there isn’t much room to negotiate the opening and closing of a paper. The females will do pretty much the same but with one important additional activity, they will freely apply make-up to their faces without so much as a by your leave.
I find this frankly bizarre. Surely the point of applying of make-up is to make the best of your appearance, to cover what you feel are the weaker points of your features and highlight the stronger. If this is so, why on earth would you show complete strangers, the very people who are supposedly benefiting from your slap, that you somehow feel that without cosmetics you’re not at your best? Touching up your cosmetic mask is, to some degree understandable, but a large proportion walk onto the bus resembling strawberry milkshake and fuck off like Nefertiti.
Moreover isn’t the process of applying make-up a private thing? To display a state of absorption so overtly in public, as well as making yourself looking like a vain tart, is more of a case of exposure, not masking. It’s a paradox, surely? Or is it that they don’t give a fuck what certain people think, specifically those who they don’t consider remotely important, i.e., me, in order to ‘impress’ the ones they do. I suspect it’s the latter which means that by applying your make-up in public you’re being fucking rude. So, to the blond arsehole gurning into her compact with manicured little fingers scraping pig fat all over her fizzog, and to the perfume-reeking businesses woman poking at her eyeballs with a stick of black blubber, fuck you!
Do enjoy this, it’s quite beautiful and unintentionally hilarious.
