1. Positive stories about Northern accents.
This is how you talk to someone if you are from the south of England.
"Shall we partake in the consumption of alcohol refreshments, wot wot?"
This is how you talk to someone if you are from The North.
"Fancy a beer?"
2. Negative stories about the same.
There's a Starbucks in Manchester station. When you order your coffee/tea, they write your name on the cardboard sleeve in order that they can call your name when your custom-made frothy-worthy consumerised crap is ready. So, I'm standing there waiting for my Mango-Schpango juice thing (I have another story about this later) which was obviously attributed to the name of "Jess". Other people were waiting too. The barista has a ready coffee in her hand ready to hand over to the rightful owner. She is small and cute and local to Manchester (Gemma). She shouts "Jeh! Jeh!" Everyone looks at each other. This name doesn't belong to any of us. The coffee has no owner. More importantly, we are still waiting for *our* drinks, with which the process will now take longer, because staff are fannying around trying house this orphan coffee.
"Jeh! Jeh". Everyone still looks taxed. I peek over the bang-bang coffee machine to see if someone is still making other people's drinks so we aren't endured to be here all day.
At this point another barista comes over. She is Eastern European but I can't tell you exactly where (Helena). She takes the coffee away from Gemma and reads the sleeve aloud: "Jay? Anyone called Jay?"
With that, the spectacled geek-chic lad next to me piped up "Yes, that's me!". He turns to us apologetically, as if it's his own fault that his name was so mispronounced.
3. I tried to elaborate my southerness whilst up North recently. I tried to talk like Holley Willoughbooby but instead sounded like JAAA-nit Street-PAWW-AH. I remarked to a northern pal; "I really need sum war-ah". "You mean water" she tastefully and neatly quipped.
4. There's a massive toilet on this train; it takes up at least a quarter of the carriage and is one of these custom-fit plastic units like a giant porta-potty. It has electronic doors which open and shut at a touch of button. When you sit on the toilet doing your thing, a flighty electrical blip could cause this door to open of its on accord; thus displaying you at your most vulnerable state, to the whole of the carriage. I don't trust this door. The same seemingly minor electric flaw that causes, for example, the fucking wifi not to work on this train or that annoying blinky bulb in the overhead light could also whimsically open the toilet door whilst you are pulling your pants up.
5. That cocainey one from Status Quo just got on my train at Bury St Eds. He was probably here to buy cocaine. The Cockney rebel.
6. I used the tram today. No one checked my ticket and I could have done it for free. This useless fact now bothers me a little.