mostly david ephgrave

I’d like to live in a world where my bag isn’t just big enough to fit the things I need to carry in it, provided I don’t want to take anything out at any point. It’s the ultimate status-lowerer. It’s intensely frustrating. Filling it is akin to a game of Tetris; there’s a very specific method to take, and Lord help you, should you attempt to deviate from it. As soon as I’ve slid my laptop in (I say ‘slid’; it’s more of a fifteen-stage force), there’s scarcely room for anything else. I then squeeze in my umbrella, knowing there’ll be no hope of extricating it quickly in the case of a sudden downpour. It would be easier getting it out if it was encased in concrete. (I exaggerate for borderline comedic effect). The simple answer to my problem would be to buy a new one. This relies on me having the funds to do it. I bought this one in a state of emergency and haven’t yet had the requisite cash to replace it. Such is the life of a professional actor / comedian / pauper. ...

While on the bus today, I spotted a small black plastic bag on the seat opposite with the top tied up, and was worried that it might contain a poo.  Nobody laid claim to it. No-one wanted to sit next to it either, though the bus was almost full. Each time we stopped, the people boarding would make a beeline for the empty seat, then shun it when they saw its ominous luggage. Or should that be “loggage”? A poo bag is the ultimate space-saver.  It was the tied-up top that made it suspicious. It was too small to contain a bomb, yet big enough for bum-product. The colour of the bag only added to its sinister atmosphere; black polythene can mask a multitude of sins.  No-one picked it up by the time I got off. It sat there, enjoying the benefits of an empty double seat. If I catch the same bus back and it’s still there, I may be tempted to loosen the knot.  UPDATE:   There was no sign of the excretal sack on the journey back. It was just full of teen...