The day had been long and grey as it always was over here in Her Majesty’s realms. Timothy Darling sort of liked the monarchy, but only because it was quaint and rather upper class. He often wondered how time-consuming all these royal rituals were, and thought back to the Olympics when the Queen (if it was her, which it wasn’t, mind you) jumped out of a helicopter. Of all things, what an absolute waste of his goddamn time it was to watch a little old lady parachute out of an aircraft. Some protested that it was cool and hip, but it was also rather irritating. Then again, the Olympics were just as irritating and time-consuming. And nothing was worse than public transport during the Olympics.
If Timothy could, he would have his own private helicopter fly him to work everyday, and he would certainly vouch for the efficiency of this procedure compared to the sodding Olympics. In fact, he would have the whole ritual organised beside him everyday just to prove that his helicopter would reach the office before the ground would reach the less-than-amused and certainly unhurried Queen (which wouldn’t be the Queen, mind you, just to replicate the original ritual.) Well, he certainly would have if it weren’t all so time-consuming.
Timothy Darling’s train finally reached the platform. He was supposed to have waited for twenty minutes, but it felt rather like five. He decided that thinking about the Queen, and a helicopter for that matter, was awfully time-consuming, so he ceased promptly. Upon entering the train, he thought about how time-consuming it was to pack a bag, book a seat, sit in the seat, and take the train. He would have decided that it would have been much less time-consuming to not take a train, but then he would have had to think of the helicopter, and that would have displeased him, as it consumed time he was unwilling to spare.
Deciding between having a tea and taking a nap, Timothy came to the conclusion that the latter would be more beneficial to his health, and ultimately a better way to spend his time. He decided to doze off at exactly 11:05.
At exactly 2:04 pm, which was one minute shy of a two-hour nap (which, mind you, was terribly irritating), Timothy Darling was woken up by an announcement saying that there had been an “occurrence” in the first- class seating area, causing a relocation of several passengers. He thought of how long it must have taken to find the noun that would be least offensive to all passengers, and cryptic enough for them not to know whether there was a public urination, or a violent incident. After deciding that incident was a better word than occurrence, the speakers announced it was a cleanliness issue, which made him quickly opt for public urination, as he refused to spend more time thinking about this irritating issue.
As the first class passengers moved along, one very striking man was allocated in front of him. The man was irritatingly handsome, Darling thought, and very well composed. He wondered if this irritation was jealousy, because he had previously in his life decided upon that it was more auspicious to be attractive due to it taking less time in life to get what you want. At that point in time, he felt lucky to be, in his opinion, moderately attractive.
The man in front of him had a blinding watch, and a navy blue suit on. Security guards were allocated at a nearby table and accompanied him. Timothy felt watched, and wondered, but only for a split second, if he was the type of moderately attractive man who might look suspicious.
A few minutes passed, and a woman going through the carriage shrieked. The security guards bolted up and held her back. “I love you, I love you!” – she screamed at the man. He smiled and signed her arm. Timothy thought it was quite time efficient to carry a pen in a pocket, and sign an arm rather than get out a paper – it looked like the quickest way to get this baboon to move along. The man must have noticed that Timothy was visibly shaken, although in a calm way, mind you: he apologised for disturbing the carriage.
Don’t apologise. There was an insane woman in the train, and you removed her by the prompt signing of her arm. It was an efficient way to deal with the situation, and in any case, a better incident than public urination.
The man broke out in laughter.
You know what? I like you man. Do you want a dedicated autograph and a picture?
What would I want that for? Timothy replied, thinking that this sounded rather time-consuming. Did this man think he was insane too? He started thinking of the most efficient way to avoid being signed and removed from the train.
Oh, so I take you aren’t a fan? Timothy Darling wasn’t a fan, because he hadn’t the slightest idea who “George Coonie” or why he was introducing himself. In any case, whoever George was, he noticed that Timothy was confused – but only slightly, as being rather confused would have been sort of irritating for everyone.
You know? Batman?
Yes. I know who Batman is.
Timothy thought this was rather quaint. He wondered briefly if this George was related to a certain Elizabeth, and if his helicopter was down today. Maybe it wasn’t so efficient after all. George had an American accent though, so he concluded that he wasn’t royal, and the helicopter was efficient after all.
All right little guy, I’ll do some impressions, how about it? Maybe it’ll come back to ya.
A few impressions later, Timothy Darling was even more confused (but still only to an appropriate amount), and no closer to knowing what this foreigner wanted.
Suddenly, George Coonie turned his face to a certain angle, having given up his impressions, and Timothy Darling finally realised. He felt terribly embarrassed, and rather slightly irritated.
Oh. Right. You’re him from the coffee advertisement, Expresso – Nespresso.
Yes, well. That’s all well and good sir, but nonetheless I refuse to be signed by you.
Luckily, he didn’t have to worry about being ousted, as his stop was next. Timothy got up, and waited to exit the train. He thought a little about how horribly time-consuming this whole morning had been. He decided the name Expresso was rather ironic, as advertisements are rather long. He concluded that he wouldn’t drink an ironic drink, because they required extra time to think about. Unlike Expresso, Timothy Darling was sure that if he had to pick a name for anything, it would certainly have alliterations in it, as they are, ultimately, less wasting of time.
And with that finishing thought, he hopped off the train, in a very efficient and timesaving manner.