Why I was late"On the way to the station, I got hit by a bat, it almost took my head clean off. Then the machine would not accept my ticket and the guy at the gate didn't think I looked like the photo on my travel card. So I had to go home and get my passport.
Then the train was 45 minutes late to the station because of the dangerous badger threat at Carpenters Park.
When I was on the train it took and hour and a half to get past the biscuit factory because the driver was really fat.
Then there was a delay stopping at the station because the train in front had heard we were coming and decided to play a practical joke with a rubber shoe on the track.
That is why I couldn't get here on time today."
What's your best excuse?
(
chthonic, Thu 28 Jun 2007, 10:36)
« Go Back
I wish it was just an excusePulled some bird and went back to hers. Next morning she had to leave early for work but let me stay a little longer. Eventually get up and make my way downstairs. She lived in Walthamstow in a house split into two flats with a communal front door. Turns out the other flat has double bolted the door.
Fuck. 10 years ago so didn’t have a mobile. Turned around to go back into her flat so I could call her to come and let me out. The door to her flat has closed behind me and now I’m locked in a 12 foot x 3 foot corridor in pissing Walthmastow. Fuck.
Started laughing about the situation until it dawns on me that she’s not coming home for another 10 hours and start to feel a little faint. Have to lie down as the claustrophobia takes hold. Start to panic and really need to do a shit.
Prise open the letterbox and study the road outside hoping to catch someones attention. First person walking by is a kid.
“Oi.” Kid looks around. “Oi, over here.” Kid looks confused until he see half a face in the letterbox. He comes over but he can’t speak any English. I try and tell him to get help and he wanders off. Next thing I hear some man shouting and this kid starts crying. Must have been his dad telling him not to fuck about with strange men in letterboxes. See the kid hurry by on the other side of the road.
Half an hour later a street sweeper comes past. After he’s stopped pissing himself laughing he asks me what I expect him to do about it. “I don’t know, call the police?”
“Alright then.” And he wanders off. Comes back about half an hour later. “I’ve called the police – they’ll come but they said it’s not a priority.”
“Cheers mate.”
Two fucking hours later some twat of a policeman turns up. “What seems to be the problem, Sir?”
“I’m stuck in a pissing corridor, mate. That’s the cocking problem.”
“What about going out the backdoor, Sir?”
“No you retard, I’m stuck in this corridor, I can’t get round the back.”
Eventually he goes off and calls this girl at work. Apparently they announced over a tannoy that there was a man locked in her house and could she please go and let him out. Quite embarrassing for her she later tells me.
She has to come all the way from South Kennsington which takes another hour and a half. As soon as she turns up I sprint upstairs to unload the mother of all shits and then finally leave that bastard place.
Turn up at work six hours late and have to explain the whole thing to my boss. He threatened to sack me if it happened again. WTF.
(, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 2:23, Reply)
« Go Back