A train journeys towards The West. There is stillness save for the urgent rhythms of the traction engine scraping over the rails.
“Everything OK with the Boom Elsie?”
“Fine thanks Trish, Camera OK?”
“Yes. Ready to roll.” The two elderly friends smiled at each other. So far so good. The childhood ambition to make a film had lain within them for seventy years. Now it was finally coming to fruition.
Trish shouts, “ACTION!”
The camera pans towards the carriage door. It opens. The Guard walks in. He is handsome, tall and muscular, a bubble perm sprouts from under his cap. The camera tracks him walking down the aisle.
The carriage is empty save for an attractive young women and a middle aged man sitting several rows in front of her. He is reading a newspaper. The Guard approaches the young woman who is idly twirling a strand of hair as she watches the Devon countryside rush by.
Elsie, ignoring her aching hip, kneels on the seat in front of the young woman, ready to film the encounter.
“Tickets please.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have a ticket,” the young woman replies, “I don’t have any cash. I lost my credit cards as I ran for the train. I need to be in Totnes to let Pete the Plumber in. I’ve got a blocked passage. Is there any other way I can pay?” She smiles coquettishly at him.
“You are a naughty girl,” the Guard replies, “I’ve got something to punch your ticket!” He unzips his trousers and reveals an enormous tumescent love sausage.
“I bet that has been in a few tunnels,” the women says lasciviously as she eyes his enormous rolling stock,. “Where does this feature in Conditions of Carriage?”
“Well, we will have to have a good shunt to find out won’t we!” grunts the Guard with a leer on his pockmarked face.
The middle aged man spies the randy goings on. He shifts in his seat and struggles to concentrate on his paper.
The young woman leans over and begins rubbing the Guard’s throbbing set of points,
“Ooooh yeah, you know how to handle a Tinkler……”
“CUT!”
Elsie pops her head above the seat. “Natalie love, can you give it a bit more oomph please. Good strong grip and give it some welly!”
“Yes Mrs Raymond, but there’s a draft from somewhere. I have a crick in my neck. Can I put my scarf on?”
“Go on then.”
Trish turns to the Guard, “Terry, now you are a big lad, you definitely didn’t get that from our side of the family. Be proud of it! Don’t call it Tinkler either! How about Mighty Love Muscle or Stallion of Prolonged Ecstasy?”
“OK Aunt Trish. I tend to get a bit light headed when………you know.”
“Concentrate on something else then, there’s a good lad. Right,positions everyone! Let’s get going, I need to get this camera back for the Christening.”
The couple re-established their positions. Natalie holds his Stallion of Prolonged Ecstasy in her hands.
“ACTION!”
“You can ride me all the way to Totnes if you like. I ain’t no cheap day return an’ all?”
Terry smiles, “I’ll make sure you get a super saver on the way ‘ome me deario.”
The carriage door slides open once more.
“Hot and Cold Drinks, sandwiches, snacks and an assortment of – Sweet Jesus!” The trolley attendant wasn’t expecting enthusiastic fellatio in seats 23 and 24. The Guard swings around, his enormous signal box on display.
“Jeez you could take somebody’s eye out with that! Cherry Bakewells anyone?”
“CUT!”
Elsie’s head popped up again. “Excuse me we’re trying to make an adult themed piece of erotica here, would you mind?”
“That’s right,” concurred Trish who swung the boom into Terry’s love weapon. He exhales and swears under his breath. His cap is dislodged to reveal the full glory of his perm.
“Terry, what have I told you about swearing in public! It lowers the tone,” snapped Trish.
“Sorry Auntie.”
The attendant shuffles on a few feet before stopping to watching the action gather momentum. “Have you thought about Doggy Style with her eating a Cherry Bakewell?” she said.
“There’s a thought,” Elsie said to herself.
The middle aged man piped up, “I’d like a Cherry Bakewell and a coffee please.”
“ACTION!”
The filming of “Briefs Encounters” continues.
Feel free to use your own imaginations to continue the plot line.
Personally I’m outraged. A letter of complaint is winging its way to First Great Western!
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