If there are two things that a man absolutely loves in life, they are lists and a good old rant. Well today is a double whammy, being in the form of a long list of rants; this time focusing on the 5 biggest irritating hates that unfortunately eat away at my sanity on a daily basis. Let's get the record straight, I'm a commuter, probably the most miserable type of human being ever, and I am no exception in that I generally have the patience and temperament of a Lion that's just had it's arse shot with a giant blow dart.
Lately i have been constantly on edge, bordering on the fine line between gritting my teeth and bearing, and losing it all, grabbing the nearest object and smashing it over someones head (I can already picture the front page headline of the Metro reading 'Man kills Big Issue seller with plastic spoon'). I generally like to think I'm quite a happy go lucky type of person, but unfortunately it seems to me that my route in life has been purposely littered with morons, whose sole ambition is to annoy the fuck out of people like myself who just want to live simple and stress-free lives.
I could, quite easily, have written an entire book on this subject as but, let's be honest, you don't have time for that. Instead I have highlighted the worst of the worst of my commuter hates and put them into a short list for your enjoyment, all at the expense of my misfortune and suffering.
1.The Dawdling idiot.
Ok, so my knowledge of the surrounding vicinity is usually pretty good, and i have a reasonable understanding of basic geography. I also like to keep to a schedule, and be somewhere at a certain time. Is having a small amount of co-ordination, and a sense of urgency, too much to ask for? I didn't think so, so why is the entire world overflowing with clueless, dilly-dallying imbeciles!? If its raining, why are these people walking at snails pace in the middle of the pavement? Get the fuck out of the way. I cannot count how many signs on escalators clearly state in big bold letters to STAND ON THE RIGHT. It's enough to make my blood boil. People always say 'Londoners are always in a rush' but the reality is we just know where were going, and we don't have the time to stand about in the middle of a busy concourse taking pictures of pigeons and trying to find Shoreditch station on an underground map.
2.The Seat Hogger.
Have you ever got on a busy train and searched high and low for a spare seat only to see some smug twat sitting next to the isle, while the window seat next to him is empty? Of course you have, these clowns are everywhere and on every train up and down the country. It's the biggest cause of train-rage, and many arguments have been fulled by such ignorance. I say arguments, its usually a quiet 'tut' and shake of the head. But there is no excuse for being so god damn inconsiderate. Another variation of this crime is when these monkeys do the decent thing and take up the window seat first, only to then dedicate the aisle seat to his bag! I usually ask if his bag has a ticket, they soon move it. I should perhaps then explain why trains have luggage racks, because as comfortable as they look, unfortunately they're not for sleeping in.
If your train to work is a nice shiny high speed piece of kit, chances are you will have some kind of ticket inspector who works his way through the train every morning, making sure he catches the hordes of criminals who slip through the ticket barriers every day at 7am. This always seems to happen about 2 minutes after I drift into a comfortable power nap. Headphones on and a few tracks into the latest album and I get woken up by a chubby finger poking me in my arm, asking to see my ticket. Not only do i pay hundreds of my hard earned pounds a month for the displeasure of having to breathe in other peoples coughs and farts in what is merely a steel tube for half an hour, I'm not even allowed to have a bit of peace and quiet. One day I will snap the neck on one of these guys who wake me up while I'm fondling Julia Bradburys breasts.
4.The Broadcasting slapper.
So you're in your own space, daydreaming, analyzing work, or quietly chatting to a friend about last night's match, when all of a sudden a deafening noise similar to that of a tug boat destroys the peaceful atmosphere, and we are treated to the company of what can only be described as the love child of Vicky Pollard and Katie Price. Eyes begin to gaze up from newspapers and heads slowly appear from behind seats to find out what the actual fuck is going on here. Myself and the entire carriage then have to put up with hearing, in fine detail, the entire phone call of this absolute weapon and her recent night out in Wetherspoons.
No, not the type that my Granny buys me for Christmas. Getting onto a packed train or tube and having someone's reeking armpit in my face is possibly the closest I have come to killing someone. How the hell can someone smell so bad before work? The usual routine for the majority of people who go to work; wake up, shower, get dressed, breakfast, leave house. If these disgusting creatures don't have time to wash, then they should set their alarm a little earlier. Having to endure a carriage of unhygienic city boys for the duration will push anyone to their limit, before giving one of these tossers a good shoeing.