Chapter Sixteen: Do The Locomotion
Dear Reader,
I am officially a commuter, a grumpy, tired, stop stealing my seat and stay on your BLOODY SIDE...commuter.
To be fair, I'm not grumpy really and we all know I never actually tell anyone to stay on their side, I'm quite small for such a huge wuss. It's more of loud internal monologue whereupon shouting occurs at random points. I'm sure that should you be able to tape it and play it back, it might make a rather good radio show.
So as of last week my people watching has kicked up a notch, I'm in London now, way more people to watch here...
However, what the BLOODY HELL LONDON?! Do you have to sign a document before you live here saying that under no circumstances will you ever move out of the way?! I mean I'm all for sticking to your guns but this is ridiculous. The amount of people that have whacked straight into me when all it would have taken is a 3 degree shift to the left is quite maddening.
And I tell you what's more, I'm so British that I'm the one who bloody apologises! Good grief Charlie Brown. I have to stop really because I'm beginning to freak people out, another unwritten rule of London; thou shalt not speak to anyone under any circumstances should you be deemed insane. How is it that I travel an hour across the country and manage to find a new species of human? Darwin would be in his ruddy element.
Secondly (I didn't say firstly, but we'll breeze over that), who are these people who get up and START QUEUING FOR THE MOTHER FLIPPING DOORS on the train when we're about 5 minutes from the station. You there, stop that! You understand that we're at the last stop right? The evil train isn't going to shut it's doors and lock you in forever. It means I have eleventy bloody billion people standing far closer than I would appreciate for 5-10 minutes, at which point, when we reach the god forsaken platform, it takes about a lightyear, give or take, for the bastarding queue to diffuse enough for me to get up. If we did this whole debacle in an ORDERLY BLOODY FASHION we might all be able to get off the confounded train quicker and with our sanity intact.
Therefore tomorrow I shall stand up and announce that as self appointed leader of the 4th carriage of this train to Waterloo, I shall be conducting and coordinating their departure upon arrival.
I have no concerns that this won't go absolutely fucking brilliantly.
S.P.
I am officially a commuter, a grumpy, tired, stop stealing my seat and stay on your BLOODY SIDE...commuter.
To be fair, I'm not grumpy really and we all know I never actually tell anyone to stay on their side, I'm quite small for such a huge wuss. It's more of loud internal monologue whereupon shouting occurs at random points. I'm sure that should you be able to tape it and play it back, it might make a rather good radio show.
So as of last week my people watching has kicked up a notch, I'm in London now, way more people to watch here...
However, what the BLOODY HELL LONDON?! Do you have to sign a document before you live here saying that under no circumstances will you ever move out of the way?! I mean I'm all for sticking to your guns but this is ridiculous. The amount of people that have whacked straight into me when all it would have taken is a 3 degree shift to the left is quite maddening.
And I tell you what's more, I'm so British that I'm the one who bloody apologises! Good grief Charlie Brown. I have to stop really because I'm beginning to freak people out, another unwritten rule of London; thou shalt not speak to anyone under any circumstances should you be deemed insane. How is it that I travel an hour across the country and manage to find a new species of human? Darwin would be in his ruddy element.
Secondly (I didn't say firstly, but we'll breeze over that), who are these people who get up and START QUEUING FOR THE MOTHER FLIPPING DOORS on the train when we're about 5 minutes from the station. You there, stop that! You understand that we're at the last stop right? The evil train isn't going to shut it's doors and lock you in forever. It means I have eleventy bloody billion people standing far closer than I would appreciate for 5-10 minutes, at which point, when we reach the god forsaken platform, it takes about a lightyear, give or take, for the bastarding queue to diffuse enough for me to get up. If we did this whole debacle in an ORDERLY BLOODY FASHION we might all be able to get off the confounded train quicker and with our sanity intact.
Therefore tomorrow I shall stand up and announce that as self appointed leader of the 4th carriage of this train to Waterloo, I shall be conducting and coordinating their departure upon arrival.
I have no concerns that this won't go absolutely fucking brilliantly.
S.P.
Comments
Post a Comment