Ooooh... my first post on here... I hope its decent. If not, feel free to batter me to death with a frozen halibut.

Last weekend I had to go to London to meet a friend for a day, and as a Northerner I've been bred to hate anything remotely southern... so I wanted this day to go well otherwise I'd return home and want to wipe out everything south of the Tyne (apart from Sheffield). Now the north is quiet a distance from London so rather than walk, I had to get a train.

First of all was the wonderful shock of the train prices. They say if you book early enough, you can get good deals... they lied. I booked a month early, and had to hand over £99.30 for a return ticket (in cattle class). A quick check online shows I can fly to Rome for £50, or hire a car for £60. How do people expect us to use the train, if the prices are so stupid?

I decided to reserve a seat, as the morning services are usually packed to the gills with people. And just to be sure I had a pleasant journey as possible, I booked it in the "Quiet Coach". For those of you not aware of what that is, its a coach (usually "Coach B" on NXEC Trains) that customers are requested to not use any electrical devices which might inconvenience other passengers. So that's no phones or MP3 players allowed. It makes sense really, as no one wants to sit and listen to some chav shouting into there mobile, or listen to some tinny music from some idiot that doesn't realise the volume switch can go down as well as up. People who do that should really be smacked about the back of the head... preferably with a sock full of gravel. One thing they don't ban, and its a thing I hate more than anything else in the world, is babies.

I was sat there, contently reading my magazines, then some woman takes the seat behind me, complete with baby that's been turned up to 11. Imagine 4 hours of constant crying, about 3 feet from the back of your head. Its not nice. Who on earth lets people bring babies onto the quiet coach? I wasn't sure who I wanted to chuck through the window first, the parent or the child. I couldn't even use my MP3 player to drown out its noise, as that could "inconvenience other passengers". The only noise I wanted to hear from that child was the quiet gurgling that you associate with a sucking chest wound. For those that think its a bit harsh to kill a baby, try sitting with the bugger behind you for 4 hours... and I'm sure you'd soon change your mind. As for the parental chav, I took one look at her, then felt sorry for the little sproglet, up until the point it opened its mouth again.

As you can imagine, my mood as I arrived at Kings Cross wasn't too good. So imagine how much it improved when I had to stand in a queue for half an hour to get a tube ticket. Not only that, I then had to listen to some Londoner complaining that the tube trains weren't frequent enough... try living where I do, when there is only 2 bus services every half hour... and the nearest train of any kind is an hour away on bus. On top of that, another one was complaining about the congestion charge going up. No sympathy from me, you voted for it, and if you vote Ken Livingston in again, you're an idiot. I could rant for hours about London, but I can't be bothered.

Eventually I got my ticket, got onto a packed sardine tin to travel through some rat infested tunnels to meet my mate. Why does no-one talk on those things? Is it against the law or something? Eventually, we met, and my day got better.

Luckily the journey home was less eventful, up until I got to Newcastle where I got to watch a drunk man have an argument with himself. It descended into fisticuffs, and he gave himself a right kicking, even smashing his own head off a wall. Eventually, once he had decided he had enough he made up with himself, and went off in search of kebab. Its a strange city Newcastle, don't believe what you see on the adverts.

So to sum it up: babies are twats, London needs a good flooding, and Lily Allens new show is yet another reason to hate her.