Last night on the train home, two lads get on. Baseball caps and Sarf London accents, chav-meter goes ping. The carriage is crowded and they find seats in different rows. The one next to me continues the conversation they were having on the platform by shouting over his shoulder at his mate. Seems that my new neighbour is currently unlucky in love.
“If I chat up five women a day, in two months one of them’s got to ‘ave it.”
He treats us to a sample of his technique:
Him – “Do you know what I fancy?”
Victim – “What?”
Him – “You”
A few stations later they leave the train and the whole carriage can stop suppressing their giggles. As he steps out of one door a young women (low cut top, wonderbra, croydon facelift) steps in through the carriage’s other door and sits down opposite where he had been sitting. Fate is cruel sometimes.
Yes, the whole point of this post was to show that Wikipedia has an entry for “croydon facelift”. Love the See also: traction alopecia.