BBC One
Previously on The 7.39: commuter train seat buddies Carl and Sally agreed to a ritualised ruining of Sally’s vagina by Carl’s Johnson to save both their sanity and their life threateningly tedious long turd relationshits. We left the two train twats in a hotel lift, off to do the boning but when it comes down to it their fumbling attempts are awkward and shit. Just imagine every time the likes of you have sex. Exactly like that. After a bit of fresh air though they do much better. Tender, intense and worthy like a Radio Four documentary on North Korea. He’s like a slow motion runaway train once he gets in his groove and she arrives on schedule, multiple times. “No regrets, no apologies” she says.
He’s like a slow motion runaway train once he gets in his groove and she arrives on schedule, multiple times.
Oh, word? GTFO of here Sally. All is changed, changed utterly and you damn well know it. The furtive looks on the train, the flirty text messages – before you know it they are drinking together again and he finger bangs her on the train.
GTFO of here Sally. All is changed, changed utterly and you damn well know it.
Dickless future husbland Ryan is boring her insane. He wants them to go to and live in Australia – a whole new hemisphere for him to drain the testosterone out of. Carl, on the other hand, rails the shit out of her in another hotel room and they have a lovely day out in London taking selfies. When they return to their room he masturbates furiously with her stockings over his face and gives her an angry gorilla. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that” she says. Nobody expects the angry gorilla, Sally.
When they return to their room he masturbates furiously with her stockings over his face and gives her an angry gorilla.
Back at his family home Carl is behaving strangely. He tells his son he should follow his heart, his idiot doomed acting dream. He gets shitcanned at work and the missus starts getting suspicious. She follows him on his way to some non-existent interview and cops him while he is snuggling Sally. She gets a bit sad.
Carl is behaving strangely. He tells his son he should follow his heart, his idiot doomed acting dream.
Sally meanwhile has become pregnant. Carl rehearses the most eyepoppingly beta set of marriage vows since Eben Pagan (a.k.a. David Deanushole) gave his balls on a silver platter to his weird creepy trans-friendly “wife” Annie “Old Iron” Lalalalalalala and it pushes Sally over the edge. She admits the affair and, amusingly, he goes into full on Hulk SMASH mode.
Carl reads the most eyepoppingly beta set of marriage vows since David Deanushole gave his balls on a silver platter to his weird creepy trans-friendly “wife” Annie “Old Iron ” Lalalalalalala
It’s hilarious. Even though his sperm are beta apologetic “after you Claude – you go and fertilise the egg, you’ve earned it” the baby somehow turns out to be his. Nature’s a fucking miracle. Ryan smacks Carl up a bit but the damage is done. Sally and Carl decide it’s best to quit while they’re ahead
Even though his sperm are beta apologetic “after you Claude – you go and fertilise the egg, you’ve earned it” the baby somehow turns out to be his.
We flash forward two years. Carl’s still with the wife. He sees Sally with a child and new borefriend, decidedly not Ryan, who died from a sprained vagina broken heart. We have no idea who this new bozo is and furthermore we don’t care. All that matters is that Carl and Sally had their fun and that Ryan – perma grinning, six-pack sporting, 0.3% body fat Ryan – is dead. Possibly throwing himself under the 7.39 train I don’t know. That would be cool.
The verdict: The little engine that could.
Marks out of 10: 7
