Flabby intrusion

If you had a wobbling cake-encrusted arse, how would you walk through a train carriage?

Carefully?

Don’t be silly.

Clearly the best thing to do is bend right over and without any regard thrust all your flab, flab which is pulsing and screaming to be let free from its tight tracksuit prison, yes, thrust the repressed flab right in the face of someone.

Maybe someone who cannot escape, maybe someone who is sitting down simply trying to read the morning paper in peace?

Maybe someone, whose face is relatively a fifth of your big flaccid greed filled bum?

Maybe someone like me?