2007-01-26 - 3:09 a.m.

I am a criminal. I slipped back into bad old habbits the other day and paid the karmic price. I used to love bumping the fair on the train. It was a buzz. There was a moment of tension as the conductor approached with his call of "Tickets from Perth!" and I completely rubbered him. Would he pass by or would he be one of those thorough buggers who clocked faces and demanded payment? More often than not the conductor would just glide past with nary a second glance. After all, what do they care? I would then breathe an inward sigh of triumph, safe in the knowledge that the tenner in my pocket could be put to better use than merely paying for the service I was presently using.

But then the Trains got smart. It took them awhile but eventually they realised that a shitload of their customers weren't really customers at all, but scummy freeloaders. While committing my own crime, I would often witness besuited commuters engaging in the same unlawful act as I of a morning. It was quite shameful, really. All these people who could easily afford the train fair ignoring the conductor and smirking to themselves. Well, it couldn't last. After losing untold gazillions in dodged fairs, the rail companies finally decided that enough was enough and they were going to start hitting people up for the service they had used. Radical. Instead of just walking to ill-gotten freedom, one now had to pass through ticket-swallowing gates. So, if you chose to ignore the conductor now, you would have no ticket to push into the slot in order to gain entry to your destination. I'm amazed it took them this long.

Apparently, some mild sleet was cause enough for the cunts at the bus station to cancel all services. This being the bus station, they didn't relay this information in time for alternative travel arrangements to be made. Severely fucked off, I trudged across to the train station. In an attempt to right the wrong of 'missing' my bus (and consequently my lecture) I decided not to buy a ticket at the kiosk and take my chances with the conductor on board. 'Fuck it,' I thought, 'I've missed my first lecture but at least I might be able to get to Dundee for free - that could be a consollation.' Y'see, I knew Dundee didn't have the oppressive electronic entry gates to the station, instead having only a guy standing on the stairway asking to see your ticket. I thought it would be easy enough just to blend into the crowd and slip past the human. Imagine my horror when I alighted, only to discover that since the last time I'd been there, Dundee station had installed the electronic, gimme-your-ticket-punk gates. Shit.

The ticket gates were being guarded by a brute of a man of whom I didn't fancy running afoul. I did this gay little mime of checking my pockets before retreating into the cafe area. I weighed up my options. No chance of sneaking past him. I looked down the next platform to see if there was some secret staff exit. Well, there was a sign a hundred yards down that read 'No Passengers Beyond This Point.' Hopeful. I was pretty sure if I waited until the next train shed its human load I could make an attempt at hopping that sign without anyone noticing and taking what I imagined would be the adjoining stairway to freedom. Then I had a better idea.

I noticed that when passengers put their tickets into the slot the gates stayed open for just long enough for 2 people, rather than the intended 1, to fit through. I would have to basically sodomise a fellow passenger, but I reckoned it was worth a shot. If the worst came to the worst, I thought, then I could tell the ape that I'd left my wallet on the train. Why I'd been pacing about the station for the past 15 minutes instead of telling him straight away, though, was a whole different kettle of fish. It was then I noticed the disabled gate. It was the furthest from the side that the ticket supervisor was stationed. It also seemed to stay open longer than the other gates, possibly in order to accomodate spazzies. Well, I just went for it - I stood right behind this guy while he pushed his brief into the slot, and then passed through with him in one fluid motion. One frantic look back to see if I'd been noticed, and then I was off - bolting up the stairs and into the afternoon light.

I was now a criminal, a scofflaw, a desperado. I was on the lam. It didn't feel as good as it used to. I was no longer a devil-may-care rogue, getting one up on The Man. I was a Thief. The fair would have only cost me about £5 but the effort and nerves I'd expended amounted to a much greater sum. I'd be pretty pissed off if someome stole 5 quid from me, and yet I'm no better. If I'd known the ticket barriers were in place then I wouldn't even have attempted my little confidence trick. As it was, I found myself too embarrassed to confront the supervisor - I just couldn't imagine myself coming up with a good enough excuse as to why I didn't have my ticket and yet all my fellow passengers did. It was out of embarrassment that I turned to crime. While I was proud of myself that I managed to pull it off, I was also ashamed that I'd compromised my principles. I'm all for capitalism and the free-market. The more profit a business can generate, the less they can charge for their product. See: Asda's £9 DVD player. This way everyone benefits. However, by stealing, I have forfeited the right to complain about shoddy service, late trains, the price of fairs etc. It's no wonder ticket prices have gone up when so many cunts like me avoid paying the fair - the fair! You know, that thing that everyone has to pay in order for the system to work. I may have saved myself some embarrassment, but ultimately I'm no better than a Communist.

I was punished later that day when the jar of pickles I was struggling to open suddenly gave way and my trousers were drenched in stinky vinegar juice.
I'd say I got off lightly.

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