Those of you who have had the misfortune of seeing me before 10am already know this so I will make this admission for the vast (and lucky) majority - I am not a morning person. I hate getting up in the morning and getting ready to go to work. Therefore I would like my commute to work to be a painless experience, so that when I step off the train at Waterloo, my mood is slightly better than Berlusconi's at a magistrates convention.
Sadly this doesn't happen very often, due to the presence of these ubiquitous, dark characters:
1) the Window Opener. You have just settled in your seat and had a first sip of hot coffee. Your hands are still frozen from the walk to the station so you are thoroughly enjoying the train's heating. What happens next? Typically the Window Opener gets on the train, chooses the seat opposite you and promptly opens a window or two, even if it's below zero outside. Hello?!?!? What happened to asking if it's ok to open a window?? Or how about taking a layer or two of clothes off?? You still have approximately ten left on - so much so that I'm sure that I have seen you sometime ago in a Michelin advertising poster - so it's not as if you're going to freeze to death, is it?? Tosser.
2) the Rambler. Ok, they are not proper ramblers in the technical meaning of the word (don't get me started on proper ramblers anyway). By Rambler, I mean those commuters who tend to carry a rucksack so big that it should require planning permission. Does the Rambler care about whose face / shoulders they're going to hit when they nonchalantly shuffle by 90 degrees along the aisle?? Do they fark. I always wondered what the Rambler sticks in the rucksack that makes it so bulky. The gym kit?? I assume that they also fit a folding treadmill, a couple of medicine balls and even the sodding fitness instructor in it, judging by the size of those rucksacks.
3) the Traveller. By this I mean those dodgy individuals without fixed abode. How do I know that they don't have a permanent place that they call home? Well, how else can you explain that they travel permanently carrying a wheeled suitcase? They have nowhere safe to leave their worldly possessions so they cram them all in the wheeled suitcase.... the number of these diabolical fcukers on South West Trains has multiplied exponentially. Are wheeled suitcases the new rabbits?? Is there a colony of wheeled suitcases hidden somewhere at Wimbledon Depot where male wheelies and female wheelies are at it all the time???
Maybe I'm being too harsh now but I hope that you see my point. All considered, I am a lucky man, much luckier than the average Rambler or Traveller. And you know why I'm lucky? Because I have the gift of sight and therefore - unlike these selfish b@stards - I can see that there are several funny pieces of metal, assembled together and fixed strategically above the windows, called 'overhead racks'. I have it on good authority, my dear Ramblers and Travellers, that these strange, vastly underused objects are not just meant for discarded copies of Metro or wet brollies.
Needless to say, whenever I see any of these utterly despicable characters next time, I will have my usual reaction, ie. I will royally bottle it and say nothing. This is what being a commuter is all about, after all. But now you know that you are in my little black book and I will curse you all the way to Waterloo under my smelly breath. And that's enough for me to feel a little bit better...
Sadly this doesn't happen very often, due to the presence of these ubiquitous, dark characters:
1) the Window Opener. You have just settled in your seat and had a first sip of hot coffee. Your hands are still frozen from the walk to the station so you are thoroughly enjoying the train's heating. What happens next? Typically the Window Opener gets on the train, chooses the seat opposite you and promptly opens a window or two, even if it's below zero outside. Hello?!?!? What happened to asking if it's ok to open a window?? Or how about taking a layer or two of clothes off?? You still have approximately ten left on - so much so that I'm sure that I have seen you sometime ago in a Michelin advertising poster - so it's not as if you're going to freeze to death, is it?? Tosser.
2) the Rambler. Ok, they are not proper ramblers in the technical meaning of the word (don't get me started on proper ramblers anyway). By Rambler, I mean those commuters who tend to carry a rucksack so big that it should require planning permission. Does the Rambler care about whose face / shoulders they're going to hit when they nonchalantly shuffle by 90 degrees along the aisle?? Do they fark. I always wondered what the Rambler sticks in the rucksack that makes it so bulky. The gym kit?? I assume that they also fit a folding treadmill, a couple of medicine balls and even the sodding fitness instructor in it, judging by the size of those rucksacks.
3) the Traveller. By this I mean those dodgy individuals without fixed abode. How do I know that they don't have a permanent place that they call home? Well, how else can you explain that they travel permanently carrying a wheeled suitcase? They have nowhere safe to leave their worldly possessions so they cram them all in the wheeled suitcase.... the number of these diabolical fcukers on South West Trains has multiplied exponentially. Are wheeled suitcases the new rabbits?? Is there a colony of wheeled suitcases hidden somewhere at Wimbledon Depot where male wheelies and female wheelies are at it all the time???
Maybe I'm being too harsh now but I hope that you see my point. All considered, I am a lucky man, much luckier than the average Rambler or Traveller. And you know why I'm lucky? Because I have the gift of sight and therefore - unlike these selfish b@stards - I can see that there are several funny pieces of metal, assembled together and fixed strategically above the windows, called 'overhead racks'. I have it on good authority, my dear Ramblers and Travellers, that these strange, vastly underused objects are not just meant for discarded copies of Metro or wet brollies.
Needless to say, whenever I see any of these utterly despicable characters next time, I will have my usual reaction, ie. I will royally bottle it and say nothing. This is what being a commuter is all about, after all. But now you know that you are in my little black book and I will curse you all the way to Waterloo under my smelly breath. And that's enough for me to feel a little bit better...
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