Sitting backwards on a train will make woman die horribly or something

A WOMAN is unable to sit backwards on a moving train for unspecified yet ominous reasons, it has emerged.

Though the majority of people can sit in the direction opposite to travel with no ill effects, Nikki Hollis has declared herself to be a rare and mysterious exception.

Hollis said: “Sitting backwards on a train makes me feel funny. In fact, that’s an understatement. I can’t quite explain it, but I avoid sitting backwards at all costs.

“It’s such a serious affliction that I need to announce it loudly to the carriage whenever I board a train and am not immediately able to find a seat facing the right way.

“Yes, I do expect people to move. They have never known the awfulness of feeling vaguely nauseous due to travelling in a direction they don’t like. There should be more awareness for conditions like mine.”

Joe Turner, who gave up his seat to Hollis on a service from Brighton to St Pancras, said: “She came and stood next to me while looking pointedly at my seat, so I assumed she was pregnant or something. Turns out she just enjoys making a fuss over nothing.

“The look on her face when we diverted at Solihull and the train started travelling in the opposite direction. F**king priceless.”

Things you do in your 40s your own parents would never have got away with

MANY activities you do now would have made you a social pariah in your parents’ day, especially in middle-age. So cherish your freedom to do these pretty mundane things.

Watching superhero films

These days there’s nothing abnormal about two 45-year-old men earnestly discussing the latest Ant-Man film. Back in the 80s, your dad’s blokey colleagues would have mocked such childish fare, preferring grown-up films of the time like Deathwish 3, an incredibly realistic movie in which a wheezy senior man mows down scores of ‘street punks’ by carrying around a Browning heavy machine gun.

Male moisturising

If a 40+ man wants to moisturise, it’s no problem. In fact you’ll receive high praise for such enlightened behaviour, especially from women. If your dad had let on that he moisturised he would instantly have been called a ‘poof’ and his nickname at work until he retired would have been ‘Liberace’.

Not being married

This sounds ridiculous now, but not in your mum’s day, when being unmarried even in your early 20s meant a race against time to not be ‘left on the shelf’. Society’s solution was to put so much pressure on women that they married the first bloke who wasn’t noticeably deformed and had a job, regardless of attraction or his personality. Come to think of it, your dad is a bit of a tedious twat, so that must be how your parents met.

Playing computer games

If your dad had gone in to work on a Monday and announced he’d spent the weekend being an elven wizard looking for magic artefacts, the next one might have been spent in a padded cell. These days, of course, your colleagues would just rightly assume you’d been playing ZeldaSkyrim or some other fantasy RPG. Of course if someone had played 1970s computer games all weekend they’d probably have brain damage from 32 hours of Pong.

Wearing trainers

In a way it’s odd to wear highly engineered, near-professional-standard sporting footwear to mooch around Tesco, but in your parents’ day you could forget about such super-comfy shoes. If for some reason you had worn trainer-type footwear, people would have assumed you were a sports teacher, and, thinking back to the PE teachers at your own school, you’d prefer not to be known as a definite paedo.

Not believing in God

As late as the 80s people put up a vague pretence of believing in God, and it was quite unusual to say you didn’t believe at all. This resulted in going to Sunday school and the occasional brain and arse-numbing family trip to church. If God exists it’s unlikely he was impressed, and probably wished all you hypocrites would f**k off back to your weekend DIY and telly and stop murdering hymns.

Talking about sex

In the 21st century you can bang on about sex until everyone’s sick to death of your clitoris. Not in the 1950s. If a woman even used the word ‘sex’ the room would have gone silent. Older females would quickly have deduced you were a prostitute, and all men present would have assumed you were gagging for it in the nearest Ford Anglia. They were more wholesome, innocent times.