Mobile phone conversations on the c2c seem infintiely more annoying than those on the tube. Probably something to do with the train itself being quiter and the fact you don't suddenly whizz underground. I realised the other day, after learning all about a global divisional manager's pregnancy ("I told them I want my bonus to cover my annual childcare. If they really value me..."), that most of these aren't actually conversations but monologues. The person on the other end doesn't seem to get a word in edgeways. A snippet from tonight's gem.
Overheard on the 18.09 from Limehouse to Shoeburyness.
I 'ad to go to f***king Next to buy a pair of f***king shoes. We was well spannered last night and our shoes was shitted up. Some f***ing thieving pikey f***king nicked 'em, didn't they? F***ing pikey bastard! Four pairs we left in the porch. All f***ing jacked. Steve did his bollocks off. 'Ad to come to work in me suit and trainers. Felt like a right f***king dick on the train.
(He was wearing a pair of trousers, an off-white polo shirt and a grey zip-up cardigan. With shiny new shoes).