I See Wed People.

They're everywhere. Strolling around like regular people. Standing at bus stops. Grocery shopping. Buying super absorbent tampons at Boots. Ordering cappucinos, no espressos, no maybe lattes, no baby, what do *you* think i should have, ok cappucinos but maybe just skinny ones. Catching the Tube in the morning. Everywhere.

Let's face it. Nothing says "i love you possum" quite like causing a stranger to vom in their freshly-colgated mouth before the sun has risen or the Tokyo Stock Exchange closes. Nothing says "aaaaw bubba, i want to make wickle babies with you forever and ever and EVA" like slurping and guzzling eachother's necks inches from someone's face in a crowded sweaty train. Nothing. Nothing at all. Because yes, Coupled Freaks, your very public salacious suck-fests are clearly what dreams are made of. They make our day. They make us want to hug everyone around us and make love to everybody in the carriage. Twice. In fact, if we started now, everyone could be impregnated before we even get to Fulham Broadway. Minus the Chav in the corner - she's already got one up the duff with a foetus queue to rival lunch hour at Home Affairs. But everyone else is fair game.
I do not shitting care how much you sodding 'wuff' eachother. If you're that desperate, wake up 5 minutes early and flip her over for a depraved pre-breakfast rogering but then for God's sake get on with functioning like a normal human being once you walk out of the front door. Keep it in your pants. And here's an idea: instead of groping at eachother's bits the entire way to work, why don't you use your hands to hold the rails because hey, when Retard-Bob the train driver slams on brakes, you'll find you're able to actually stand upright instead of toppling over and continuing your dry humping on my lap. Rocket science, i know.