I’m a commuter but I don’t wear a suit, which instantly makes me look a bit weird in the mornings and kind of stared at (though that’s probably the beard too).  I don’t generally have an issue with other commuters: we all have a destination to get to and we all do it every single day so the amount of time spent staring at Tube maps and posted signs talking about delays, directions and cacked up escalators is kept to a minimum and we all go about our business on blissful early morning autopilot, moving eel-like around each other in a fashion not too dissimilar to a colony of ants.

That’s my early shift, not a problem.  Transpose that onto a shift that requires me to get onto the tube network at a time other than rush hour and things go apeshit.  Two words; FUCKING TOURISTS.  Now I understand that sometimes people need suitcases to cart all their luggage around – it’s inevitable if you’re travelling somewhere – but for fucks sake, how on earth do you manage to get in the damned WAY quite so much?  And it’s not just tourists – these frigging tiny cases that some Suits trail around behind them on their stupid telescopic handles; what the blue fuck can you fit in there besides your computer and your lunch?  Both these types of traveller combine to fuck me off totally by behaving completely inappropriately at the top and bottom of escalators.  What the SHIT are you people thinking?  “Ooooh here comes the bottom of the escalator, I actually have to start moving now and I’m (for some damned reason) blissfully unaware of the dozens of people crammed onto the moving platform behind me so I’m going to get to the bottom, wait til I’m off and then STOP DEAD AND PULL OUT MY CRAPPY CASE’S HANDLE AND MAKE YOU ALL FALL OVER ME.”

Goddamn.

I’ve actually started purposefully kicking these shitty draggy things when I see them and then staring at the owner until they apologise for running over my foot.  Quite refreshing.

It’s not so bad when they have the fucking nonce to stand on the right side of the escalator but then you get these  pricks that stand on the left and then scowl at you when you accidentally kick them in the back of the thigh when you squeeze past them.   I may progress soon to simply pushing them firmly in the back and watch them tumble all the way to the bottom.

I’m a considerate commuter too, which means when I’m about to change direction in the labyrinth of tunnels and corridors under the city I fucking look over my shoulder to make sure I’m not going to flatten anyone right behind me.  I’m not exactly small so I would probably do a reasonable amount of damage if I trod on your FACE.  Come to think of it, I probably only do this because I’m large – it’s the shorter tossers that decided to continuously cut me up, stop dead in front of me, admire a poster, knife a busker or anything else that makes me swear at them under my breath, or more frequently to their faces.  This applies just as hard to the dicks that get off a train and then stand there in front of the doors cause they’re totally clueless as to which direction to go in.  Fuck off to the far side of the platform!  Or onto the tracks, where you belong.

Then there’s the muppets who decide to wait until they’re right in front of the ticket gates before realising their ticket is buried somewhere in their wallet or pocket or handbag or firmly wedged RIGHT up their arse.  GTFO of the damned way – I have my ticket in my hand you penis, I want to get past you. No se? No fucking se? Why am I not surprised…

I could go on.  In fact, I will.

If you tread on me – APOLOGISE.  I wouldn’t smack you in the mouth whilst walking past you for no reason other than I wasn’t looking where I was putting my hand (disclaimer: I may smack you in the mouth.) so don’t just stamp your way past me on a platform or in a carriage without taking a little care.  Yes my feet are not small but neither are my fists.

Another wondrous new invention is this thing called personal hygiene.  When I get up in the morning I brush my teeth and I apply deodorant, something that 90% of you people decided is above you.  This one is especially applicable to the mouth-breathers in my carriage – I don’t really want to smell your coffee/nicotine/badger aroma emanating from your loose lipped face.  Either brush ‘em or stand elsewhere – preferably the Central Line.

Right, enough venting for now – I need to get on the DLR…