This article originally appeared on VICE UK
Oh nothing really, just a middle-aged couple who allegedly had sex for the entirety of the half-hour train journey from London Liverpool Street to Chelmsford in June have handed themselves in to police. It is illegal to have sex on a train for half an hour straight, apparently? Since when did these rules come into play? What else are you supposed to do on a train, read the Metro? Personally I would rather do some mouth and possibly hand stuff on one of Europe's dirtiest chairs, thanks.
Anyway, top line is: police released CCTV images in their search for a bald man in his—judging by his "Dad got bored waiting outside River Island so went inside and spent £145 [$226] in six flat minutes" outfit—early forties, and a blonde woman of a vaguely similar age, though it's hard to tell. Again: it is hard to age a woman who is accused of doing sex acts in public on a train with any degree of accuracy.
"We received a report of inappropriate sexual behavior on the 9:20PM London Liverpool Street to Clacton-on-Sea train, on Sunday, June 7," Sergeant Alan King said. "The behavior allegedly started at Liverpool Street and continued until the train arrived at Chelmsford." The British Transport Police have confirmed that the lusty fugitives have given themselves up.
Doing that in front of children is kind of the most monstrous thing ever, and doing it for half-hour straight on a train—a train that jolts around, a train that shudders, I mean who puts their mouth on another person's genitals while traveling on such an uneven surface—is just bizarre.
Why would you do such a thing? Why would you force parents to move horrified children away to another carriage so you can indulge in half an hour of hand and mouth stuff on a moving train to Chelmsford? Perhaps the couple believed they were performing the most iconic romantic act of modern times. Perhaps they think of themselves as this generation's "Darcy getting out of a lake." Perhaps this couple, appearing to grimly climax together on the slowly dampening seat of a Greater Anglia train, thought they were our "that bloke off of Love Actually doing the flashcard romantic gesture at Keira Knightley."
When was the last time you were with a partner who was so filled with carnal desire for you that they started palming you off on an overlit train? A partner who denies their dying body, their furring arteries, their middle-aged welt, to get extremely erotic in the direction of Clacton-on-Sea? When did was the last time someone fucked you so good it alerted the police? Was it never? It's just vanilla missionary on a freshly made bed for you now, isn't it? When was the last time you put the fancy underwear on. When was the last time you did it before work. When was the last time you got wanked off appallingly in public. These two people, hunted by the police, are freakier than you can ever hope to be.
Love isn't dead. Love is still real. Love is being sucked off on a commuter train to Essex.
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