HELLO! I'M ON A TRAIN

I don't know if you ever saw this show but yesterday/last Saturday, as I traversed the suburbs of Sydney by rail, I was taken back to the classic scenes of Dom Jolly as he hauls out the largest mobile phone in history and hollers down the line...

"HELLO? YEA! I'M ON A TRAIN......."

Perfectly normal, respectable people seem to feel the need to SHOUT when answering mobile phones on a train! What is that about? I mean, I learned all about the couple two seats away and their up coming nuptials. In fact I could probably draw their seating plan for you, but that was because I was close by and I am basically a Nosy Parker.

But when the phone rang...BOY! The whole TRAIN could tell you about the plans for the hen's night and the colour of the bridesmaids' dresses etc. But these guys were small change. They were by no means the only people on the train whose mobile phone caused them to speak as if to the deaf. It seems to be a Sydney (?) problem of epidemic proportion.

The best one however, was Charles Atlas sitting across the aisle from me.

(CAUTION: this story involves risque concepts and more information than you probably need about anyone in your lifetime. Read on at your own risk. This means you BA!!!!!!!!!)

Charles Atlas was a well built man. A VERY well built man. You know the kind. Tanning studio tan, muscle tank top, thick neck, huge jaw and a crew cut. LOTs of bling.

His phone had exactly the same ringtone as the guy on Trigger Happy TV and it was set to the same volume. It rang a lot. If it wasn't ringing, he was dialing. Most conversations went like this.....

"HELLO? YEA! HOW THE F*** ARE YA? YEA! I'M ON A F***ING TRAIN. YEA. I'VE BEEN FLAT HUNTING ALL F***ING MORNING. YEA. I THINK I'VE FOUND ONE IN MILSON'S POINT. YEA! OR WOLLSTONCRAFT!! YEA I'M MOVING IN WITH MY FRIEND. YEA. SHE'S GOT HER OWN BUSINESS. A DRY CLEANERS. IT'S A LICENCE TO PRINT F***ING MONEY MATE."

Each 'conversation' also included reference to why he was on the train.

"YEA. I'M GOING OUT WEST TO GET WAXED!"

Now, the first time he said this I thought I had misheard. Difficult given the volume but hey!
Then I thought....cyclist? Leg wax? Back wax perhaps? Strange.....
But as each conversation fleshed out the details of his 'flat hunting day' ("IT'S DOING MY F***ING HEAD IN MATE!!!!") his break up with 'Miss Stay Out Of My F***ing Life' and the BBQ he was planning for the evening, the frequently mentioned waxing became more and more intriguing.

Finally, we were enlightened. Whether we wanted to be or not.

"YEA. I'M GETTING F*CKING WAXED MATE. YEA. IVE GOT A FRIEND OUT HERE. SHE'S THE ONLY ONE I TRUST!!!!

All ears are craned.

"WELL! IT SAVES ON TOILET PAPER MATE......."

All the surrounding commuters looked at each other with eyes agog and lips buttoning down a massive explosion of laughter...........

"YEA, WELL, YOU DON'T WANT A CHICK LOOKING UP YOUR ARSE AND FLOSSING HER TEETH AT THE SAME TIME."

*****gasp*****

And that dear readers was the information you perhaps didn't wish to have!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And so it was, in Seven Hills, that I arrived at the understanding of a 'sack, back and crack' wax. Let's just say you learn a lot on trains..........