Discussion
Took public transport to work today (usually cycle) and was inexplicably filled with rage i its crushed confines. The following two characters, for some random reason, topped me up with sloshing levels of toxic, blood warm hostility. I don't know why 
Commuter #543 - crazy-haired office drone
With two pieces of glossy white string dangling from his shell-like ears, crazy-haired office drone sits in smug contemplation whilst shielding his head from any kind of random style disaster. Having got up two hours earlier than most people, he spends his pre-commute morning gazing at his hair in the bathroom mirror, infuriating all who wish to wash, defecate, or urinate. Not for him the standard 'neat and sticking up at the front', or 'vague parting', Lord no. This piece of shit thinks that he's the Johnny Rotten of the claims department, and as such, meticulously crafts his barnet into a spiky, spidery affront to all those who come within nutting distance of his glistening perfumed head.
Shampoo, Conditioner, Serum, Putty, wax, and hair mascara are surgically applied in order to provide a shocking goop infused mess for his fellow commuters to direct their anger at. He thinks he looks daring, casual, cool and dangerous. Don't let the polyester trousers fool you, folks! When he's not pushing paper for the man, he's putting on a DJ/breakdancing show for his admiring fans. He's laughing at your hastily arranged work hair. He's laughing - but he's an utter **** . If nothing else, his peacock mentality is a warning to all those who should have the misfortune of looking at him, or standing anywhere near him. This warning says: "I am a preening twat, and am unable to accept that I am not a member of preteen pant moisturisers "Busted". Please hate me."
Commuter #87651 - Diminutive girl with massive bag
D.G.(w) M.B. Has got a lot of stuff. So much stuff that she needs to carry most of it with her at all times, just in case she begins to forget about The Palace Of Things that doubles up as a place of living. Unchallenged by the notions of gravity or balance, she bravely hoists a marquee between her slender shoulder blades every morning, and having perfected a forward-leaning walk so precarious that a baby's fart could knock her over, she struggles onto the train that has been adopted as makeshift haulage stock.
Sadly, the manipulation of the bag requires at least three people, meaning that there is no way in
hell that she is able to take it off, regardless of how many people are going cheek to cheek within the miscarriage that is the 8.35 from West Dulwich to London Bridge. Her knife and knitting needle collection doesn't just protrude from the bag, it enthusiastically gouges and excavates any arses or crotches that happen to make contact. Should anybody whimper in agony as they receive their third Prince Albert of the morning, then they are subjected to a stream of tutting and sighing of such force and breadth that it comes dangerously close to acting as a brown sound to all the other poor bastards trapped in the melee.
It is also the perogative of D.G.(w) M.B. to stand sideways on the escalator, thus forming an effective makeshift barrier to anybody who has gathered up the last of their dwindling energy and adrenaline to attempt walking on the left hand side.
phew!
Anybody who you needlessly detest, just because you are unable to contain the gamma rays of hatred that pulse from your weapons-grade heart?
Today must be one of my irrational rage days.
>>> Edited by Harry Flashman on Tuesday 25th January 15:33
Commuter #543 - crazy-haired office drone
With two pieces of glossy white string dangling from his shell-like ears, crazy-haired office drone sits in smug contemplation whilst shielding his head from any kind of random style disaster. Having got up two hours earlier than most people, he spends his pre-commute morning gazing at his hair in the bathroom mirror, infuriating all who wish to wash, defecate, or urinate. Not for him the standard 'neat and sticking up at the front', or 'vague parting', Lord no. This piece of shit thinks that he's the Johnny Rotten of the claims department, and as such, meticulously crafts his barnet into a spiky, spidery affront to all those who come within nutting distance of his glistening perfumed head.
Shampoo, Conditioner, Serum, Putty, wax, and hair mascara are surgically applied in order to provide a shocking goop infused mess for his fellow commuters to direct their anger at. He thinks he looks daring, casual, cool and dangerous. Don't let the polyester trousers fool you, folks! When he's not pushing paper for the man, he's putting on a DJ/breakdancing show for his admiring fans. He's laughing at your hastily arranged work hair. He's laughing - but he's an utter **** . If nothing else, his peacock mentality is a warning to all those who should have the misfortune of looking at him, or standing anywhere near him. This warning says: "I am a preening twat, and am unable to accept that I am not a member of preteen pant moisturisers "Busted". Please hate me."
Commuter #87651 - Diminutive girl with massive bag
D.G.(w) M.B. Has got a lot of stuff. So much stuff that she needs to carry most of it with her at all times, just in case she begins to forget about The Palace Of Things that doubles up as a place of living. Unchallenged by the notions of gravity or balance, she bravely hoists a marquee between her slender shoulder blades every morning, and having perfected a forward-leaning walk so precarious that a baby's fart could knock her over, she struggles onto the train that has been adopted as makeshift haulage stock.
Sadly, the manipulation of the bag requires at least three people, meaning that there is no way in
hell that she is able to take it off, regardless of how many people are going cheek to cheek within the miscarriage that is the 8.35 from West Dulwich to London Bridge. Her knife and knitting needle collection doesn't just protrude from the bag, it enthusiastically gouges and excavates any arses or crotches that happen to make contact. Should anybody whimper in agony as they receive their third Prince Albert of the morning, then they are subjected to a stream of tutting and sighing of such force and breadth that it comes dangerously close to acting as a brown sound to all the other poor bastards trapped in the melee. It is also the perogative of D.G.(w) M.B. to stand sideways on the escalator, thus forming an effective makeshift barrier to anybody who has gathered up the last of their dwindling energy and adrenaline to attempt walking on the left hand side.
phew!
Anybody who you needlessly detest, just because you are unable to contain the gamma rays of hatred that pulse from your weapons-grade heart?
Today must be one of my irrational rage days.
>>> Edited by Harry Flashman on Tuesday 25th January 15:33
Commuters #874 - 1329 - Space Invaders
You sit down on a nice empty set of seats on a nice empty train. King of the mentals gets on and decides to sit down opposite you. Despite the fact that there are umpteen empty sets of seats closer to where they got on to the train, they have for some reason insisted on walking right down the carriage to where you are enjoying some piece and quiet for the first time that day.
Alternatively, you have found yourself having to stand up on a crowded train with people jammed very close to you all around. You get to an interchange station and half the passengers disembark, leaving numerous free seats and vast swathes of standing space. Loonies 1 and 2 however continue to stand right next to you, boxing you into a corner from which there is no escape. Occasionally they will turn round to smack you with their annoying Ted Baker over the shoulder bags or to whack your shins with their umbrella.
Plenty more commuting characters as well.
You sit down on a nice empty set of seats on a nice empty train. King of the mentals gets on and decides to sit down opposite you. Despite the fact that there are umpteen empty sets of seats closer to where they got on to the train, they have for some reason insisted on walking right down the carriage to where you are enjoying some piece and quiet for the first time that day.
Alternatively, you have found yourself having to stand up on a crowded train with people jammed very close to you all around. You get to an interchange station and half the passengers disembark, leaving numerous free seats and vast swathes of standing space. Loonies 1 and 2 however continue to stand right next to you, boxing you into a corner from which there is no escape. Occasionally they will turn round to smack you with their annoying Ted Baker over the shoulder bags or to whack your shins with their umbrella.
Plenty more commuting characters as well.
Nevin said:
Commuters #874 - 1329 - Space Invaders
You sit down on a nice empty set of seats on a nice empty train. King of the mentals gets on and decides to sit down opposite you. Despite the fact that there are umpteen empty sets of seats closer to where they got on to the train,
I've noticed this trend ... not commuting but in car parks. Why or why do people insist on parking next to you despite the fact that the rest of the floor of the car park is empty?
Good call Nevin! I know the type.
More, please people. Any caricature you like; the public transport thing was not the point of my loss of control - rather the twunts who were on it this morning (train from my house usually very good, on the rare occasions I use it).
My other one is Tourist With Huge Rucksack On Back During Rush Hour, but that was a bit like Diminutive Girl With Oversize Bag, so I didn't bother.
Commuting rage. Like road rage, but more liable to get you thumped.
More, please people. Any caricature you like; the public transport thing was not the point of my loss of control - rather the twunts who were on it this morning (train from my house usually very good, on the rare occasions I use it).
My other one is Tourist With Huge Rucksack On Back During Rush Hour, but that was a bit like Diminutive Girl With Oversize Bag, so I didn't bother.
Commuting rage. Like road rage, but more liable to get you thumped.
I met #4473 on one overcroweded London to Bristol train. She who has 3 mobile phones so as to be able to keep up a steady muted roar of conversation no matter which network loses coverage for 17 nanoseconds.
Before escaping at Bristol, I felt I knew her intimately despite the fact that she was sat at least 4 rows away...
Before escaping at Bristol, I felt I knew her intimately despite the fact that she was sat at least 4 rows away...
JonRB said:
Of course you haven't mentioned the all time favourite:
#1
Person with walkman turned up so loud it actually causes hearing damange - to everyone else in the carriage.
Ah yes.
#5637 - Urban Warrior Of Cool
His oversize Evisu jeans hanging off his skinny arse and over a pair of Timberlands that look like they have been fine combed with a toothbrush, Loud Walkman Geeza stares into the middle distance, scowling with concentration as a relentless stream of pointles RnB tears through his auditory canals and tries to melt his brain. He inevitably sprawls across one and a half seats, legs splayed, in the certain belief that his choice of urban music marks him out as some sort of avant garde statement of inner city cool. He's laughing at you, in your suits, with your briefcases; laughter echoed in the staccato nods of his head in time to some digitised tribal beat. He knows you can hear it - he doesn't care, as the loud music and spasmodic head movements are worn as a badge of his nonconformist, rebel attitude. He thinks you all clock him with envy and want to be as free.
When in fact you're laughing at him for being such a giant dribbling
nut. And having really bad taste in music. Also applies to people that drive through town centers with their windows down, playing their music at daft valumes. Pricks.
>> Edited by Harry Flashman on Tuesday 25th January 15:48
Quality rant! And Red Ken obviously thinks there's rush hour capacity spare if this article is anything to go by :
www.thisislondon.com/news/articles/16123929?source=Evening%20Standard&ct=5
In a similar vein:
Idiots in crowded shops at lunchtime wearing rucksacks
Often to be found in branches of WH Smith blocking the narrow aisles while they read, from cover to cover, some magazine they have no intention of buying. Frequently seen wearing earphones and a "if I keep my head buried in this magazine I can pretend I haven't seen/heard you" expression on their stupid, selfish mugs.
Idiots in crowded shops at lunchtime wearing rucksacks
Often to be found in branches of WH Smith blocking the narrow aisles while they read, from cover to cover, some magazine they have no intention of buying. Frequently seen wearing earphones and a "if I keep my head buried in this magazine I can pretend I haven't seen/heard you" expression on their stupid, selfish mugs.
nicecupoftea said:
And Red Ken obviously thinks there's rush hour capacity spare if this article is anything to go by :
www.thisislondon.com/news/articles/16123929?source=Evening%20Standard&ct=5
Interesting to note from the link above "...The roll-out of road pricing to the suburbs would be opposed by many boroughs, particularly Conservative-controlled authorities such as Barnet, Enfield and Richmond..."
JonRB said:
Of course you haven't mentioned the all time favourite:
#1
Person with walkman turned up so loud it actually causes hearing damange - to everyone else in the carriage.
I once saw an elderly lady on the Metropolitan line remove a pair of nail scissors from her handbag and cut throught the speaker wires of the walkman attached to the yoof beside her! Classic moment!
Mon Ami Mate said:Oh come on, surely that's an Urban Myth perpetrated by Reader's Digest?
I once saw an elderly lady on the Metropolitan line remove a pair of nail scissors from her handbag and cut throught the speaker wires of the walkman attached to the yoof beside her! Classic moment!
Did you really see it happen?
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