14 September 2004
To: People who get on trains and then stop just inside the doors, when there's acres of space and half a dozen people also trying to get on the train behind them.
Message: MOVE INSIDE THE FUCKING TRAIN, YOU SELFISH TWUNT!
Newsflash: This is London. Personal space means that nobody is physically standing on you.
If you are such a delicate flower that you feel you require a gap of at least three feet between you and the nearest other person in all directions, find another method of getting to your undoubtedly dull office job.
Do not, I repeat, do not, give me an evil look when I exhale in exasperation and nudge you forward gently, thus ensuring that I, and several other people behind me also manage to get on the train, and thus, to our respective places of employment. I was remarkably restrained in not punching you in the kidneys. Do it again and I might not be.
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To: The suited and booted bloke in the lift in the tube station yesterday morning
Message: You are in a lift with, at a rough count, 20 other people.
You are not in the privacy of your own home.
You are also not invisible.
It might do to remember this fact when you're excavating the contents of your nasal passages, surveying them thoughfully and then flicking the offending snotters off your fingers.
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To: The LU staff member who heard my fairy footsteps coming along the corridor and held the lift for me.
Message: Thank you. You are undoubtedly a prince amongst men.
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To: The staff at a major mainline station/LU interchange
Message: I had in my hand a piece of paper, entitling you to the princely sum of £952, for which I would like to be given an annual travelcard entitling me to travel both from my local mainline station, and/to anywhere I please, so long as it is within zone 3.
You however, preferred to play a game of passenger tennis, bouncing me between the mainline and underground ticket offices, each side telling me they could not provide me with the travelcard I required.
I know you have a boring, shitty job. I can understand that. My job is boring and shitty sometimes too.
Yes, my request was not for the standard day/weekly travelcard, however, I would have thought that the opportunity to do something different would be a welcome one. It appears I was mistaken.
You suck.
Co-incidentally, my local train station had no problem issuing said travelcard to me. They rock.
but...did you know...(now i've moved to nyc metro)...LU absolutely is *amazing* in comparison to the dinginess and smelly crowdedness of the NYC subway. i actually miss the cloth seats. imagine that.
Hilarious. Either you might as well be a New Yorker or I'm ready for London. Love it.
Very nice, very good, very fucking true.
Goes for buses, too.
The bastards.
And 'twunt', eh?
I don't know why but some people just can't get the hang of it at all! I also hate those men with lawyers briefcases who stand like rocks in the middle and won't move even if you do punch them in the kidneys.
It is quite sweet to upset said selfish folk, though.
Thank you. You are undoubtedly a prince amongst men.
Should I be insulted as a man, or ashamed because that is all you got all day that is worthy of praise?
It IS odd, ain't it. Everyone else in commuter land knows the rules, why does this small band of people consider themselves exempt? Presumably they haven't read the rules.
BTW - MY set of rules DO include a "rabbit punch" option. It also includes the tried and trusted, rucksack over shoulder - spin and thwack move. My favourite at the moment. Although I think I need to work on the sincerity of my "Ohh I'm soooo TERRRIBLYYY sorry.." and maybe I shouldn't smirk whilst saying it.
... the online home and (not very) alter(ed)-ego of Ann McMeekin, a recently freelance Web Accessibility Consultant.
... passionate about many things, most of which will turn up on this site at some time or other.
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