Pushers, gropers, huggers, snoopers and acquaintances, these are the fiends of your worst nightmares when commuting to work in the morning...
Last week I got stuck on a train for 3 hours outside Brixton station. Now this was irritating of course, but more annoying was actually the women sat behind me who spent the entire time kneeing me in the back whilst also asking ‘Siri’ on her iPhone to give her alternative directions home. During this time I came to realise that firstly she was clearly mad, as there was more chance of Steve Jobs returning from the grave and carrying her home than there was of ‘Siri’ being able to give her a correct answer, and secondly that quite often commuters are actually the most irritating part of commuting. Here are some of the worst commuter irritants…
These are the irritating bastards who, even though they know there is no room on the tube train (and the next one is only 2 minutes away), will still jump on the carriage as the doors are shutting anyway and shove you head first straight into another crushed passenger. This is annoying at the best of times, but when you’re 6ft 2 like myself, this usually means you end up getting your face buried into the top of some old ladies bouffant in what turns out to be a really horrible way of flossing your teeth.
The Gropers and the Huggers
These are the people who decide that even though there is a bit of room on the carriage, they still feel the need to get into your personal space. They seem to be trying to mount you like Sea Biscuit and their hands will be touching parts of your body even your doctor wouldn’t go near without his gloves and a tub of Vaseline.
The ‘Move Downers’
You know the ones. You’re on a train that’s so packed you feel like part of you may have actually inadvertently entered another unsuspecting passenger and some dude is banging on the window and gesticulating at you to “move down”. You look around and throw your hands up as if to say “where to?” but they carry on shouting because of your apparent lack of interest in climbing up into a luggage compartment so they can get on. “Move down, Move Down, MOVE DOWN” they yell as if the sound of their voice will instantly make another carriage appear or scare you enough that you will pull out of the person you’re currently spooning, get off the train and give them your spot just because they’re behaving like a dickhead.
Is She Pregnant or just a bit Chubby?
A few weeks back I offered my seat to what I thought was a pregnant lady on the train home. What a fucking mistake. Upon hearing my offer she retorted by giving me the kind of dirty look I feel should only really be reserved for the likes of mass murderers. She then turned her back on me whilst I quickly realised what I had just done. I’d offered my seat to a fat person.
There should be a law that forces anyone who is pregnant to wear those “baby on board” badges so gentlemen like myself don’t offend anyone who may have just gained a few extra pounds over the winter. Or perhaps alternatively, chubby people could wear one saying “I’m not pregnant I just look like I should be”
These are the guys on the train that try to read your newspaper, or even worse, your text messages. Now newspapers I can kind of understand and have done it myself, but text messages? Fuck off. However, only last week I discovered a fun game you can play with this type of snooper. I have named this game: ‘I know what you’re doing and you know that I know what you’re doing, but you can’t say anything about me knowing what you’re doing as it means admitting your guilt about what you’re doing’ Twitter announcement.
So as this particular snooper stared at my phone, I opened up Twitter and tweeted the following: “Writing this tweet 4 girl staring over my shoulder & reading my messages on train who now can’t say anything as it means she’s been rumbled!”
Immediately her eyes diverted and then didn’t look back for the rest of the journey! Not only that but I also had possibly my most pleasurable Twitter moment – it was like a double victory.
Trying to have a peaceful journey to work and then bumping into someone you kind of know on the train is a pain in the arse. Now I believe 99% of the time neither of you wants to speak to one another, but one of you will decide to be polite, sit down next to the other person and for the next 30 minutes make small talk about absolute drivel before finishing off with a promise that neither of you has any intention of keeping. You know the one:
“We must meet up for a drink soon,” they’ll say.
“Yeah deffo, I’ll invite Dave and Steve along as well, it’s been too long” you reply, even though you hate Dave, Steve died years ago and neither of you have each other’s contact details anyway, so it’s never going to happen.
The Make-up Brigade
Those women who decide that they must put on their blusher, mascara, lipstick, wig etc whilst on the train rather than at home in front of a mirror. Seriously, a train is a moving vehicle, so why on earth would you choose to do something on it that I assume requires a steady hand or you risk ending up looking like Heath Ledger in The Dark Knight? I mean what next? Games of buckaroo? Defusing bombs? Jenga?
Is it not having enough time to do it in the morning before heading out that’s the problem? Well, sometimes I don’t have time to take a poo before I leave the house, but you won’t find me squatting in the aisle with my trousers round my ankles. Just get up 5 minutes earlier for goodness sake.
The Seat Hoggers
The selfish fuckers who make your journey hell by deciding that they aren’t happy each of their legs doesn’t have its own seat, so will place one leg on your seat, their other leg two seats to the right and then use the entire middle seat presumably just for a set of giant testicles. If your testicles need that much room to breathe then you should either:
A. Get down the doctors ASAP
B. Strap a snorkel on the damn thing
C. Apply for Britain’s Got Talent as you have a very unique gift.
So there you have it, I’m sure everyone’s got their own but these are most definitely mine. Roll on the morning commute…