Mayhem on the train home last night.

[Burney]

It was only about 7, but just outside Tottenham Hale in a crowded coach, some otherwise respectable-looking chap threw up in the bank of seats in front of me. Everyone reaches for their bags and lifts their feet off the floor, etc. But then I realise that there's even more commotion than one might expect in such a situation. Turns out he's only emptied the largely beer-based contents of his stomach on the feet of an Allan couple in front of him. She's in a hijab and in tears, he's got the chinbeard and is jabbering away about this poor bloke being an animal and having defiled him and his wife. Needless to say, the puker's slurred attempts at apology aren't cutting any ice.

Anyway, we pull into Ponders End and vomit man decides (not unreasonably) that discretion is the better part of valour and legs it off the train at what is clearly not his stop. Chinbeard goes to race after him, but slips over in the vomit. Wife's wailing away while some helpful lady's offering her tissues, which for some reason seems to make her even more upset.

Anyway, nobody's making eye contact after that and they eventually get off at Brimsdown and we're all left there in shock in a railway coach reeking of vomit. It was a long journey to Broxbourne.

And that's why multiculturalism doesn't work.

[Sir C]

Poor chap. Probably a dodgy oyster.

Milk of Magnesia. That's the stuff.

[Burney]

Poor chap. Probably a dodgy oyster.

Milk of Magnesia. That's the stuff.

I did feel bad for him. I mean nobody likes being vomited on, but I do think the Allans were making an undue fuss about it. These things happen, after all.

[SWv2]

Poor chap. Probably a dodgy oyster.

Milk of Magnesia. That's the stuff.

Bad pint before leaving the pub, probably the very last one as that is normally how these things occur.

No harm done.

Nobody was shat on for example.

[PSRB]

Poor chap. Probably a dodgy oyster.

Milk of Magnesia. That's the stuff.

Had that after Hawksmoor on Friday, although not entirely convinced it was an oyster, think I was just ill.

[Burney]

Bad pint before leaving the pub, probably the very last one as that is normally how these things occur.

No harm done.

Nobody was shat on for example.

Although you'd probably take it amiss if someone hurled on your new desert boots, I imagine, sw.

[SWv2]

Although you'd probably take it amiss if someone hurled on your new desert boots, I imagine, sw.

Like any normal chap I would have treated the desert boots in at least 2 spray coatings of protector.

However yes, a chinning would have occurred, especially if they were sand in colour.

[Burney]

Had that after Hawksmoor on Friday, although not entirely convinced it was an oyster, think I was just ill.

Not proud of the fact I once vomited in a train carriage after far, far too much cognac at a Christmas do at The Ritz. Must have been about 8 years ago. Thankfully, it was empty apart from me.

Pretty sure that was the last time I puked due to drink. I'm not generally a puker.

[Burney]

Like any normal chap I would have treated the desert boots in at least 2 spray coatings of protector.

However yes, a chinning would have occurred, especially if they were sand in colour.

No amount of Scotch-Gard is keeping stomach acids out imo. I chucked out the only pair of shoes I ever had that someone vomited on.

[Herbert Augustus Chapman]

I did feel bad for him. I mean nobody likes being vomited on, but I do think the Allans were making an undue fuss about it. These things happen, after all.

"if 'e don't like a bit of honest British vom on 'is fackin' sandals, then he could fack orf back to fackin Allan-land!"

[Sir C]

Not proud of the fact I once vomited in a train carriage after far, far too much cognac at a Christmas do at The Ritz. Must have been about 8 years ago. Thankfully, it was empty apart from me.

Pretty sure that was the last time I puked due to drink. I'm not generally a puker.

I once saw a guy hurl on one of those old slam door carriages where a row of people sat opposite you. It was absolutely rammed, and he projectile vomited so hard into the shins of those sitting opposite that the splashback affected people on his side of the carriage as well. Happily, I was sitting by the door and escaped the horrors of the Exorcist-like outpourings, but my drunkedn condition caused me to laugh uproariously, thus making me a victim of the carriage's assembled wrath.

Good timez.

[Burney]

"if 'e don't like a bit of honest British vom on 'is fackin' sandals, then he could fack orf back to fackin Allan-land!"

I wasn't touching him, h. He was covered in upchuck. :-(

Besides, these people are riddled with disease. You don't know what you might catch.

[IUFG]

I once saw a guy hurl on one of those old slam door carriages where a row of people sat opposite you. It was absolutely rammed, and he projectile vomited so hard into the shins of those sitting opposite that the splashback affected people on his side of the carriage as well. Happily, I was sitting by the door and escaped the horrors of the Exorcist-like outpourings, but my drunkedn condition caused me to laugh uproariously, thus making me a victim of the carriage's assembled wrath.

Good timez.

There's nothing like puking up a gallon of lager on a coach full of football teamates and then watching (and smelling it) whilst it is running up and down the floor of the coach as the hills are traversed. :lager:

[Burney]

I once saw a guy hurl on one of those old slam door carriages where a row of people sat opposite you. It was absolutely rammed, and he projectile vomited so hard into the shins of those sitting opposite that the splashback affected people on his side of the carriage as well. Happily, I was sitting by the door and escaped the horrors of the Exorcist-like outpourings, but my drunkedn condition caused me to laugh uproariously, thus making me a victim of the carriage's assembled wrath.

Good timez.

I must admit I was struggling not to laugh last night. I'd only had about three or four pints, but it was enough to anaesthetise myself against nausea at the smell and to find the whole thing quite amusing.

[Sir C]

There's nothing like puking up a gallon of lager on a coach full of football teamates and then watching (and smelling it) whilst it is running up and down the floor of the coach as the hills are traversed. :lager:

That's nice, i. An image to savour.

[IUFG]

That's nice, i. An image to savour.

You're welcome, sc.

My team mates should have been thankful there wasn't a doner kebab or curry topping to it, imo

[Tony C]

Loooooooooooool vomit man

Glad I don’t have to put up with this anymore although now when I’m summoned to the office it’s an early morning Easy Jet flight to Basel which is probably no better.

Switch to BA but they have the lousiest hotel selection in Basel. Ffs.

[Alberto Balsam Rodriguez]

It was only about 7, but just outside Tottenham Hale in a crowded coach, some otherwise respectable-looking chap threw up in the bank of seats in front of me. Everyone reaches for their bags and lifts their feet off the floor, etc. But then I realise that there's even more commotion than one might expect in such a situation. Turns out he's only emptied the largely beer-based contents of his stomach on the feet of an Allan couple in front of him. She's in a hijab and in tears, he's got the chinbeard and is jabbering away about this poor bloke being an animal and having defiled him and his wife. Needless to say, the puker's slurred attempts at apology aren't cutting any ice.

Anyway, we pull into Ponders End and vomit man decides (not unreasonably) that discretion is the better part of valour and legs it off the train at what is clearly not his stop. Chinbeard goes to race after him, but slips over in the vomit. Wife's wailing away while some helpful lady's offering her tissues, which for some reason seems to make her even more upset.

Anyway, nobody's making eye contact after that and they eventually get off at Brimsdown and we're all left there in shock in a railway coach reeking of vomit. It was a long journey to Broxbourne.

And that's why multiculturalism doesn't work.


Seems to me that you hate this guy 'cos he is an Allan... or is it the beard and that he is an Allan?