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June 05, 2005

Murder on the 9.45 to Dublin . . .

Monday 9.45am at Newbridge Train Station

It’s a beautiful morning in tropical Newbridge. As I hand a ridiculous amount of money over for my student weekly ticket I notice the Newbridge Train staff are smiling wryly at me. Oh crap. They must have read last week’s column where I was giving out about trains being late and them not announcing it. Just act casual Liam. The ticket guy pulls his jumper sleeve up to reveal his watch. He points to it. “The trains not late today is it?” he says. Well that wasn’t so bad. And for the record, by the time the train did arrive – it was late. Muhahaha!

Met the delightful Laura McGann on the Arrow. She’s the only person I know who can match her clothes to the colour of her eyes. Fabulous, darling! She told me a story that is always told to murderers by psychologists. The murderer then has to answer a question on the story. Laura recounted it to me. It goes like this: A young lady goes to the funeral of her aunty. At this funeral she meets the man of her dreams and gets his number. Later when she gets home she kills her own sister. The question given to murderers is why did she kill her own sister? Now think about it before you read on. Why? Got an answer? Good. Let us proceed. When Laura asked me the question, I thought perhaps that her sister had taken the number of the guy and had gone out with him. The young lady, in a tempest of rage, kills her own sister. Laura informs me that I am wrong. Turns out that 99% of all murderers say that she killed her own sister so that the charming young man would have to go to the funeral and they would meet again. Laura explained to me that a friend of hers had told her the story and asked what the answer was. Laura instantly gave the response that 99% of all murderers give. Shocking, eh? Thus Miss McGann revealed to me that she was totally freaked out by this and was concerned that she may have a bad side lurking deep within her soul. I reassured her that she simply wasn’t capable of such evil. (Although then I texted a college friend of mine saying that if I wasn’t in college by 11.15am call the cops. Just in case…) I bid Laura, the femme fatale, farewell at Heuston Station and board the faithful number 91 bus into town.

Upstairs is crowded with commuters. Each one with a story to tell. The two young ladies sitting in front of me are conversing in what I think is a Claire accent. Along our journey one of the young ladies excitedly points at the Four Courts. “There’s the GPO,” she says. Oh brother. We’ve got city-virgins on our hands. The other girl pipes up and says, “that’s not the GPO…” Well spotted. “…that’s the parliament buildings.” Touché.

Trains, Buses & Automobiles by Liam Geraghty appears every week in the Kildare Nationalist (page 6)

Posted by LiamG at June 5, 2005 08:48 PM