Touching Mikey

“We are now leaving the free tram zone,” said the (annoying) voice over on the tram. (whose idea were those?) “Please ensure you touch on your Myki.”

It’s nice they’ve got a name for theirs, but I don’t call mine anything.

We've all been "touching on" since we were thirteen.

(Oh, you've got to do something to amuse yourself during those incessant voice-overs we now have on Melbourne trams? Whose idea were those? Catering to those who are as dumb as a box of rocks, yet again)

Truthfully, I used to screw a boy named Mikey. (Yes, I know, a grown man named Mikey, never the less) He was lovely, dark hair, gorgeous eyes, smooth skin, all over him. I can’t help but think of him when I hear that message. I remember touching Mikey very well.