Basically, I just got off the train in Birmingham cause I was going to see the Louis Theroux film. I’ve just realised now that I forgot to book the ticket and that it’s now sold out.

Basically this whole journey has mainly been a lengthy epilogue to buying petrol. Make joy from my misfortune!!!

Jose Mourinhos Manchester United lost 4-0.

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Getting the train home now. If anyone asks I’m paying tribute to Benny Profane.

I suppose I can take solace in the fact that my monthly train pass allows for, nay encourages, this kind of frivolous commute.

I’m going to eat chips later.

The daylight has dwindled significantly in the twenty minutes I was disembarked so I can pretend more time has passed than really has.

Maybe I was abducted by aliens! Maybe this is how all UFO stories come about. People ashamed to admit they forgot to book tickets in advance.

Am I breaking a stigma?

Am I, in a profound way, actually something of a pioneer? A hero?

I’m Mr Meeseeks!

Square your shoulders, Jerry!

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