For those of you that have lived in London, you will have no doubt experienced the daily nightmare that is the London tube. Despite the 60 second arrivals during rush hour, there is somehow a continuous overspill of people, crushing themselves into the 2mm of space available as though they were running away from zombies rather than hurrying along to work.
Here I break down the 5 most annoying types of commuters I come across!
- The fire breathing dragon – they have raced onto the tube with seconds to spare and now spend the next 15 minutes of the tube journey smoking air out of every possible orifice to try and catch their breath back. They make sure to angle their potent morning breath in the direction of as many commuters as possible to ensure everyone is aware of their dragon breathing qualities
- The not so subtle pervert – it’s 830 in the morning on a Tuesday and approximately four times as many people as there should be are crammed into every carriage. Creepy Clive takes this perfect opportunity to press his hairy pot belly into the back of whichever unfortunate lady happens to be standing infront of him. It’s not his fault, it is the morning after all.
- The couldn’t give a shitter – Despite the tube being overflowing like a shaken can of Coke, these particular individuals like to drape themselves across the entirety of one pole like a pitiful pole dancer. Cue a series of awkward attempts from other commuters trying to pinch a spot on the pole with their fingers whilst trying to avoid said pole dancers ears/arms/stomach/legs that have entwined themselves around the pole as though they are one.
- The foghorns – you’re within kissing distance of about 29 people yet some idiot in a suit at Clapham Common decides to order everyone in the carriage to ‘MOVE DOWN AND MAKE ROOM FOR EVERYONE ELSE.’ Because you know, who doesn’t want another 6 people pressed up against your face/mouth/leg/back/armpit/butt?
- The flying spider – those deluded individuals that think they can cheat the tube system and stand without holding onto anything, resulting in them flying 3 metres down the tube as soon as it starts, barging straight into that tiny personal space that Londoner’s have adjusted to and leading to a series of red faces and awkward apologies. Seriously, just hold the damn pole.