I was standing up on the tube this morning, reading my book, and I couldn't help overhearing a couple of snatches of the conversation going on between three women sitting in front of me, all in their twenties, dressed up smart and on the way to work together. One of them didn't say a word. The one in the middle and the one on the right were talking. I've recorded some of their words for posterity.
Woman on the right: How much to lick that girl’s bunion?
Woman in the middle: What, to lick her face?
Middle: [Thinks for a bit] I’d do it for a fiver.
[None of them laugh. They just stop for a bit and then start going on about TOWIE and how one of the women on it is just dirty and bitch and a slag, and I tune out for a bit.
I get distracted again by this bit, and I’m annoyed I missed the beginning.]
Right: Is he gonna lick your face?
Right: Is he gonna lick your flange?
Middle: No way.
Right: I was gonna ask you a personal question then, but I remembered where we are.
Then they got off, and the one in the middle pushed the one on the right back into her seat by her head as she passed.