Paddington to St Ives and the gap yah war

I love travelling by train. It would be my preferred choice of travelling anywhere.  The line from London down to Cornwall is especially nice, following the coast.  Unfortunately last time I travelled on that route two gap yah boys recognised each other (through their type rather than personally) and bonded, loudly, across the table I was sitting at.  They started with country top trumps; “Whoa Guatamala. Far out.” “Yah, right, but Peru, man”. “Yah, Peru, superb.”

They then moved on to micro-adventure trumps.  “Well, yah, we like blitzed North Island in our jeep, yah, and like nearly ran over a penguin, yah”.  “Wicked. Like when we tried to swim out and reach the dolphins and we looked up, right, and there was Australia that way, and we were going that way…” “Whoa, superb! But I had like a seal, like, charge at me, yah, and wait for it… yah! It sat on my foot”. Haw haw haw.

What a pair of numpties. Could have been amusing if they hadn’t reminded me of Giddy Osborne and Dave Cam twenty years ago. Yah.

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