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Another encouraging preview at the Bill Murray pub in Angel, nicely located to make my ‘., ml;.’;[=]=[=-[pp[/.,ml.
/;;'
(sorry my daughter just arrived and typed that last bit and I don’t want to dampen her creativity so I am leaving it in - that’s her first published work) - it was nicely located for my journey home from Kings Cross. But I missed my train by seconds and had half an hour to kill at the station. Mildly annoying, but for now, the novelty makes it interesting and it was still early enough in the evening for it not to be a disaster.
Anyway my train was already at the platform so I could sit down and do some work. The carriage smelled quite badly of sick though, which was off putting (and as with all strong smells these days, the stink stuck in my nostrils so that I could still smell it when I got home, making me wonder if I had somehow sat in the sick). I was about to move seats, when I looked down and saw someone’s plastic railcard holder on the seat beside me. I opened it up to discover a season ticket that would allow the bearer to travel between Hatfield and London until the 9th October. Imagine that. All I had to do was buy a disguise that would make me look approximately like the man in the picture (and the photo looked pretty old, like he’d used the same card for many years, so all I’d really need to do was purchase some glasses) and I could have free travel between a place I didn’t live and London, at any time of day, for the next almost three months (apart from the month that I am away in Edinburgh). It was a tempting scenario. It might work even better if I actually gave up my new house and instead moved to Hatfield. And gave up being a self-employed comedian and got a job in London. It was all coming together in my mind.
Also there was a five pound note tucked into one of the pouches, so over those three months I could also enjoy five Twirls bought from WH Smiths and still have 25p to play with.
But was I being unambitious in my dastardly scheme? The man’s business card was also in the holder. He was called SM Wright and he is a senior manager at a chartered accountancy firm in town. It gave his phone number, email and work address and everything (well actually basically just that info). Why didn’t I go for the bigger con. I could disguise myself as him and tomorrow, go into his office and pretend I am him, do his job and collect his wages. I don’t know but I would imagine that his annual wage would probably be at least 10 times the £5 I was currently ahead. Once at his work I could casually find out his home address (by asking his secretary where he, I mean I lived) and then take over his whole life as well. Finally a chance to ditch my pregnant wife and child and start a new life. It might not be as good as the life I have now, but what if SM Wright is married to Rebecca from Let’s Play or a sex robot? Surely it was worth the gamble.
Or I could email him and let him know I have the card and offer to post it back to his work address. And maybe if I did that and didn’t even steal the fiver he would be so impressed he would give me free chartered accountancy for life. I don’t know what that is or if I need it, but it would be like having an accountant genie at my beck and call for the rest of my life. I find myself in some kind of chartered accountancy emergency, ring up SM Wright, tell him he needs to help, remind him of my kindness to him. Bang! My accountancy wish is his command.
It's a tough choice. I am sure I will come to the right decision.
I moved up to the next carriage to get away from the sick smell. But the sick smell was still there. Maybe I was creating the sick smell.
