The London commute is a tradition as old as time. Every day, the streets flood with thousands of neatly-pressed bodies, all making their early morning pilgrimage across the capital. A proud cultural ritual, the commute has always been a bastion of solidarity and unity.
But, with tension rife throughout the city, Londoners are on high alert. Their daily journey is endangered by a small group of radicals, acting within the faceless sanctuary of the crowd. The actions of these mavericks threaten to disrupt our civilisation’s long-held ideals and incite a culture of anarchy and ruin. Our advice to citizens is simple: Stay Vigilant. These public transport menaces are everywhere, they’re not who you expect, and they’re hell-bent on destroying the way this country operates.
Distinguishing one of these arseholes from a commuter is simple. While they often wear the same navy blue suits or sling back heels, their mannerisms are instantly jarring. Should you find yourself in their presence, watch for the following signs of suspicious activity.
1: The Space Invader
Whether you’re stuck in the heat of the rush hour crush or stretched out on a deserted train to Hounslow East, this clinger will locate your personal bubble and curl up inside it like a cat. They prefer nothing more than to climb into the narrow gap between your face and their own and fill it with long, bilious sighs. Bad hygiene is their lingering gift to the world; one they insist on delivering in person.
Be especially aware of handrail hand-touchers, rucksack pack-mules and professional seat-sharers.
2: The Blissful Ignorant
Most Blissful Ignorants serve themselves first. They believe their expensive O2 contract entitles them to priority seats on the tube as well as at gigs and view the old, lame and pregnant as inferior citizens. First through the doors, last to move aside, they will often use small children as footrests on longer journeys. Life is a game of musical chairs and these sad little creatures will dropkick your mother-in-law in order to win the final round.
3: The Walking Dead
These queer human manifestations suffer from chronic listlessness, slow-dancing their way across the station with reckless lethargy. Now and again, they must stop mid-walk to allow their thoughts to catch up. If you’re lucky, you’ll bounce away from this low-speed collision unharmed, but more than thirty people die a slow death each year, having found themselves stuck behind the same twat for weeks on end.
Consistent losers in the daily rat race, this dawdling dunce justifies Abraham Lincoln’s famous claim:
“Just because it’s called a mobile phone, it doesn’t mean you’re entitled to play Candy Crush in the fast lane of the travellator.”
4: The Dodo
This final category lives a life of intolerable innocence. They fall about the terminal, failing to read the pattern of human footfall and wondering what celestial power commands the barriers to open and close so arbitrarily. Left is right and right is left in the dodo’s mind, explaining their inability to stand on the correct side of the escalator. Perhaps fuelled by a primal death wish, they’ll also launch themselves in front of oncoming cyclists, their vision impaired by the bright-coloured cones that separate the cycle lane from the pavement.
All four varieties look to cause serious harm or offence to their fellow passengers. As their war on our way of life continues to rage, we could see more and more recruits joining their ranks.
But citizens shouldn’t fear their morning trot to work. Together we are stronger and, no matter what the commute may throw at us, we must always promote inclusion. When confronting these anarchists, step aside, smile and in a loud, sincere voice cry “You’re welcome, arsehole!”
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