Everyone on train pissed

EVERY single person on a 3.30pm train from Bath to Manchester is absolutely leathered, they have confirmed. 

The train is taking workers home, reuniting familes, bringing long-distance partners together and sending people on weekends away, all with one thing in common; they are getting shitfaced.

Passenger Tom Booker said: “From the young executive quietly finishing his marketing report with a four-pack of Camden Hell, to the mother on her way home necking pre-mixed M&S cocktails, to the students sharing a bottle of rhubarb gin, everyone is paralytic.

“No sooner has a single-malt downing businessman staggered off to the station bar at Birmingham than three football fans carrying a crate of Carlsberg took his place. It was a train of souls in blissful, drunken harmony.

“There’s no disorder. The quiet carriage is full of people quietly getting drunk. In first class they’re savouring fine wines and apertifs. Passengers without seats are peaceably getting shitfaced on the floor between carriages.

“It’s actually a vision of Britain in amiable accord. If only this train could be the whole country, how happy we could be.”

Train driver Steve Malley said: “We’re doing a tequila shot for every red light we pass up here. I am wrecked.”

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Adorable little trinket shop obviously a front for evil

A QUAINT little knick-knack shop selling curios for affordable prices must be a front for terrible evil, shoppers have agreed. 

Odds N Ends in Swansea has low prices and few customers but somehow remains in business so is likely a front for the Mafia, the Triads or some kind of international society of contract killers.

Nikki Hollis, who runs the nail salon over the road, said: “I can honestly say I’ve never seen a single human enter except the old man who runs it. And he closes for lunch.

“I’m going to go the obvious route and say it’s probably drugs, shifted out of the back room in massive quantities. Jason at the newsagent thinks it’s money laundering, while Gemma who runs the Co-op swears it’s a brothel.

“Either way it’s something nefarious. No way can a shop survive on this street selling novelty keyrings and joke signs. Maybe people trafficking?”

Owner Roy Hobbs said: “No, it’s just that I own the freehold and don’t have high overheads so I only need to make enough to get by.

“That big lever in the back. Nothing. Certainly doesn’t open a hidden stairway to a murder casino for serial-killing billionaires. Now are you buying anything or what?”