Had a near death experience at the hands at the hands of a 17 stone moonhead last night. Me and Mrs BS had been having drinkies with some friends and caught the last train home. Because there was no-one else in our carriage I informs her that she would be assuming the position over the table as soon as we started moving. Anyway, 30 seconds before we left, the sliding door opened and in walks a mong version of Dell-boy, complete with trench coat and briefcase and a 2 litre bottle of Tango. Between bouts of stifled laughter from me and several digs in the ribs from her old moonhead comes and sits across the aisle from us and gets a mobile and a laptop out and starts aimlessly rambling to himself. Because the threat of imminent sex has gone, Mrs BS falls into a drunken doze leaving me to drift off wondering what sort of global company would employ a Martha Long with a head the size of Cornwall and trust him with a laptop and a moby. After a brief kip I wakes to find Martha staring open mouthed, drooling at Mrs BS, whose skirt had ridden up and was showing a fair amount of thigh. Heâd also taken his spacka-mac off and had it over his legs with an increasing patch of dribble pooling on top of it. â Had a fcuking good look?â I says to him, he goes bright red and goes back to his laptop. After a bit I needs a piss so wanders of down the train. On the way back, gets to the sliding door into our carriage and thereâs Jellyhead leaning out of his seat dogging up the Wifeâs skirt. I runs down and tells him heâs a dirty tw*t and if I catch him again, mong or not, heâll get a slap. He gets up, nearly in tears and goes off for a p*ss (or a wnak). As soon as heâs out of sight I gets his bottle of Tango and shakes it like fuck for a couple of minutes. Sees him coming back and wakes Mrs BS up to watch the fun. Martha sits down looking quite sheepish and reaches for his Tango. As he opens the bottle it explodes in his face covering himself, his laptop, me and the Mrs and about half a dozen seats in lovely orange Tango. I start pissing myself laughing, Mrs BS looks horrified and old Martha gives me a look I never want to see again. As the last drops of Tango stop gushing, Martha lets out a roar like a injured Rhino, MMMMMLLLLLLLLLAAAAAARRRRRRRR and throws his moby at me, fucking thing hits me on the nose closely followed by his laptop and his briefcase. âFcuk thisâ I thinks and drag the now hysterical Mrs BS down the train, turns round to see Martha destroying the seats and tables, throwing everything he could get his hands on. Runs into the next coach straight into the ticket slag. âWhats Happened?â she asks as she sees shit loads of claret running down my face. âDonât go in thereâ I tells her, âthereâs a loon destroying your trainâ she takes one look and rings for Plod. As the train gets into the station thereâs a couple of Plod waiting to escort Martha back to his rubber room but heâs having none of it and starts swinging the coppers round like rag-dolls. As the train pulled out, old moonhead was eating copious amounts of CS spray and enjoying the nice warm feeling of being bludgeoned with batons. I breathes a sigh of relief and winks at Mrs BS, âYou fcuking bastardâ she says and up to writing this, they are the last words she has spoken to me, what gratitude for saving her life!