It's 23:51 on 21/7/11 and I have returned from Brighton. I would like to impress you all now with a magnificent article about the Somalia famine that I wrote on the train back.
Unfortunately just as that train had pulled out of Preston Park there was a tannoy announcement calling for the conductor to contact the train driver which is normally a sign that a serious incident has occurred on the train. Then three bruised and battered businessmen emerged from the carriage behind me to reveal that the serious incident was a white woman in her forties who after cursing god and all his saints decided to fight anyone and anything that got in her way.
This left me trying to give a tutorial to three random businessmen on how to deal with mad women who want to fight the world and just won't listen to reason. So I moved up the train which had by now halted at Hassocks to take a look at the harridan in question and decided that she was genuinely mad and was just waiting for the police to turn up to detain her under the mental health act. After sending a text message and having a sandwich I was all ready to get stuck in when the train driver decided that because she was being adequately restrained by the station staff he could move off and try to make up some of the 30 minute delay.
Or to put it another way; God I love Brighton.
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