The Train, My Cock and the Petite Anglaise

My last couple of posts have touched on the issue of where for one reason or another the cyber world crosses the real world and in some cases become intertwined so that it is hard to tell one from the other.  I want you to read on with that thought in the back of your mind.

There have been a couple of posts by Stratford Girl recently which inspired me to relate a couple of incidents.  At first they might seem totally unconnected BUT I hope by the end you will see how they fit together.

You get on a train or a plane and you are surrounded by people.  Every now and then you bump into somebody you know, but by in large they are total strangers. Who are they? what do they do? why are they there?  Some are good people, some are bad, some are perverts, some you could trust with your life and others would slit your throat and leave you for dead.

The things is you just don’t know.

Are you sitting next to a terrorist or the geezer who will neutralise the terrorist?

The fact that you don’t know anyone on the train doesn’t mean to say they don’t know you does it?

When I first got involved in surveillance work I felt like I had a neon light in the shape of an arrow pointing at me and that every one could see it.  Most people don’t and see the arrow, but it is there if you know where and how to look for it.  It always struck me as surreal that the people under surveillance would be up to all sorts of mischief and hardly ever knew that their every move was being watched.

Most of the time we stumble about on our journeys hardly paying any attention to any one else.  In fact most of the time people don’t look at anyone else, they avoid eye contact and lordy if they should make eye contact it is a case of “Oh shit I looked at him/her I hope they didn’t notice”

If I am on a surveillance job this is a great asset if the person is not surveillance conscious.  If they are clued in then their little eyes will be darting around the carriage or cabin like a ferrets which helps us know if the target is up to something.

Every time you are on a train or plane take a look at who you are travelling with and see if you can discern anything about them just from watching.  A bit Sherlock Holmes but it does work, the only trouble is that after a while this little past time becomes compulsive.

Now I need to tell you about my cock.

My cock is big and hard with a purple red head and is quite magnificent, if i may say so myself.

That’s not just me being vain, anytime a woman sees it she has to run her hands over it slowly caressing the magnificent chap and remarking on what a lovely cock I have.

However its not all fun having a big cock I can tell you.  First off, you have to be careful about how you handle it, how you use it and where you put it.  On several occasions it has been put somewhere inappropriate usually when I have had a bit too much to drink, but maturity has taught me to be more careful.  If you don’t handle it carefully it can cause pain and on a coupe of occasions has caused quite nasty injuries.

When I am at home I tend to be a very casual dresser and when visitors come to my flat the woman always notice my cock and its the first thing they comment on.  Its only later do they remark on the view across the River Thames.

Funnily enough blokes never seem to mention it – and if the do its sort of in hushed tones and things like “Shit Norm what a big cock where did you get it?”. Of course I can’t remember not having it, I remember being about 3 and sitting in my bed looking at this monster cock and thinking I wonder if other kids have one as big as this.  Of course they didn’t.

However as time has gone by,  the novelty of having a big cock has worn off and I don’t think L is too keen on it.  Having said that, it was she who suggested leaving it at her entrance to keep it open.

So why is looking at who you travel with on a train and my cock related?  Well normally they aren’t but the world being a small place and coincidence make them inextricably linked for a brief moment added to this another post by Stratford Girl made me feel compelled to tell you my book story.

Are sitting comfortably then let me explain.

At the start of March I was on a job in the North of England and took the train from Leeds to York.  Initrially I was lost in the world of MP3 when I was aware of a young woman sitting adjacent to me who was none other than my old Cyber pal Catherine Sanderson AKA Petite Anglaise.  Pal might not be quite the right word as regular readers will recall Ms Sanderson took umbrage at a comment I made on her blog last year.  Mind you, she dedicated a post to me and called me a shit, I was quite touched.  This was a first,  because nobody had ever dedicated a post to me or called me a shit. Cunt, wanker, twat, thug, tosser, murdering bastard and several other things but never a shit, but that’s all ancient history.

So anyway there she was chugging along minding her own business not realising that the bloke who caused her and her followers so much heart ache was sitting within slapping distance.  I was tempted to amble over and introduce myself, for a bit of a laugh.  I didn’t because I could see she was seriously stressed.  How did I know that? well the bitten nails and cuticles were a basic give away, then there was hands which never stopped moving and she chewed her bottom lip non stop.  That would have been enough, but she kept interfering with her hair and looking at her watch and breathing out very heavily.  When the train arrived in York she was up and off like a whippet out of a trap.  Now then I know I am a nice bloke, but I am told that I don’t look it.  I don’t have anything against PA and so decided to sit still and say nowt. The point is that there was this poor lass stressed out of her mind, sitting on a train,  minding her own business and only a few feet away from her was someone who caused her to get seriously upset and throw a tantrum.  I don’t suppose she will read this and so I don’t suppose she will ever know, but that in itself is spooky and shows how people can be so unaware of who is watching them.

Now then to tie PA to my cock if you will excuse the expression.

L recently hurt herself quite badly on my cock and said I had to do something about it.  The question was what.? I mean yes it’s big but it did a good job and like most blokes I was reluctant to replace it, beside which that wouldn’t b easy.

Well the solution came from Petite Anglaise funnily enough and this also goes back to how peoples on line lives and real life can collide head on.  Let me explain.  PA worked as a secretary for an English Firm in Paris and landed herself a book deal following her being sacked for blogging at work.  Amongst other things she was not too complimentary about some of the people she worked for and admitted on her blog that she had slopped off to have a shag.  Unfortunately for Ms Sanderson at the time the consequences were pretty dire, although I have to say although I think she was naive in some of the things she said her firm were heavy handed in the way they dealt with her.  But, this is another example of how cyber life intruded into real life wit unfortunate consequences for MsSanderson and her little girl.  Despite our differences I am pleased for her that things worked out well and that she landed on her feet with her book deal, but like the Dawn saga, it could have been so different.

So to go back to PA and my cock.  Her first book was published recently and some comedian knowing of my cyber spat sent me a copy.  Very funny Billy.  As a book it really is not my cup of tea at all, but as soon as I opened the package and saw it I knew that PA could relieve my cock.  I grabbed my cock with both hands and slipped in PA and L was happy.

Actually I should say I slipped PA’s book under the living room door and man handled the 19th centuary cast Iron French Cockerel out on to the balcony.  The door stayed open.  Hurrah! now L wont run the risk of breaking her toe again.

So there you have it

5 Responses to “The Train, My Cock and the Petite Anglaise”

  1. Billy says:

    Strong Not Guilty plea on this. I didn’t send the book. I cant believe you still have that bloody cock. It’s a menace. For people who don’t know it, you would not believe that an inanimate object could inflict so many injuries on so many people. Do you remember when it fell on your dads foot when he came in to tell us off for mucking about when we should have been in bed during a power cut (3 day week back in about 1970 I think it was.

    I hope he enjoys the view of the river but why do I get the feeling that he will have the last laugh

  2. SG says:

    Excellent writing as ever … I was unsure what your cock really was until towards the end!

    Glad that I helped inspire you!

    SG
    xx

  3. SG says:

    Great writing as ever! You had me fooled till the end as to what you cock actually was 😉 And glad I provided some inspiration xx

  4. Uncle says:

    Billy – If you didn’t send the book I wonder who did! I had forgotten about my dads foot. Christ he was bloody livid wasn’t he. I don’t know whether it was harry the cock landing on his foot or you dancing on the bed like Pans People.

    SG – Thanks for the comments. Sorry about the moderation thing, it seems to have a mind of its own. Indeed a big coincidence at seeing PA, although we both originally come from the same place so maybe not so great a coincidence. Hey up you don’t think she was following me do you – Ha that would be a turn up for the books. It could be one of those fatal attraction things. Best I keep my cock safe!

  5. dl says:

    Great stuff as ever, Norman. Thanks, and keep it up!

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