It’s summer, and Tom has saved up enough pennies from his day job of masturbating frantically on webcam to hordes of absolute perverts (as noone else will employ him for fear of catching AIDS) to afford a two day break in the West Country, where he hopes to finally find someone thick enough to actually want to sleep with him. After surviving the train journey down, where he is almost thrown off the side of the train while it is moving at 100mph for no other reason than that he’s a cunt, Tom immediately sets out to have it off with as many cross-eyed fleshwastes as his puny, undersized penis will accommodate. To this end, he enters the first pub he sees, The Cock and Harp, and attempts to chat up as many nubile young women as he can in the space of half an hour, earning him no shags and plenty of kicks into his medically-irrelevant ballbag. Finally, down on his luck, he tries the only girl left in the pub, and succeeds! Hopped up on the revelation that he will, for once, get a shag, he eagerly follows the girl back to her flat… but alas; the girl turns out to be a burly sailor in drag with forearms the size of cinderblocks, who is into making young, inexperienced boys from the Home Counties endure violent, incessant buggery until they die.
Dazed, violated and dripping blood from every available orifice, Tom makes his way back to the train station, where he is immediately set upon by a horde of unionised railwaymen, who take the opportunity to throw him underneath a passing express train on the grounds that having to transport such a pointless waste of chromosomes for any period of time constitutes cruel and unusual punishment, constructive dismissal and, if nothing else, a really fucking annoying pain in the arse. Although surviving , Tom’s last hours are spent nasally ingesting the liquidised shit, piss and used bog roll spurted out the bottom of every through train until, having enough of this cruel and pitiful life, he stands up defiantly and is sliced clean in two by a special promotional train sponsored by the Nev-R-Blunt Kitchen Knife, Razor and Buzzsaw company fashioned in the shape of a gigantic razor blade. Even in the afterlife, not content with already making everyone’s life a misery, his assorted fat globules are spread far and wide over the tracks, necessitating a three months decontamination and cleanup by Network Rail in which five people needlessly perish – all in the name of one fat cunt.
