The daily commute

As a seasoned commuter, I have ample opportunity to ponder the plethora of irritations that present themselves in all their artery-clenching glory on a daily basis and, in an effort to stave off the growing urge to run amok with a range of sharp implements, I've been idly considering an array of measures and counter-measures that might be employed under certain circumstances. For the purposes of this largely theoretical exercise I intend to set aside considerations pertaining to karma and the projected maturity levels one might expect of a professional person nestling on just the wrong side of 40.

For my part, I just want to sit quietly on the train, if sit on it I must, whether it be to read the paper, a book, do some work or just snooze quietly in preparation for the day ahead. Many of my commuting counterparts clearly wish for the same thing, and indeed it is sometimes possible to do those things when fortune smiles down and those of a like mind find themselves nestled together in the same section of a carriage. On those days there is a quiet camaraderie that steals about the carriage, misty tendrils of shared contentment that swirl around our feet, distributing a wave of bonhomie and goodwill to all men. But mostly we are persistently denied this small mercy by an impressive array inconveniences and irritations that range from the mildly annoying to the all out butt-clenching, synapse-frazzling inconsideration perpetrated upon our gentle persons by that signifncant percentage of the commuting population that singularly refuses to give a flying fuck about the effect of their actions upon their neighbours. It's a microcosm of the mores of contemporary society, the entitlement freakery of the modern age that really and truly Boils My Brain.

So let's see, some examples.


The MP3 player
On the one hand a miracle of modern technology and personal freedom; on the other a rage-inducing vehicle of wrongness in the wrong hands. Is there anything worse than that persistent tinny "ch ch ch" that permeates the carriage, scientifically proven to interrupt brain waves that would otherwise be absorbed in reading or quietly snoozing in preparation for the day ahead? Being British is of course an active hindrance in this sort of situation, hard wired as we are to sit and fume in silence rather than piping up to ask the offender if they could just turn it down a bit. I do it myself, my ire fuelled by the knowledge of just what a futile, impotent response this is, but doing it all the same just in case the perp turns out to be a knife-wielding maniac. 

Proposed response: calmly walk up to the offender, remove one headphone from their ear and yell "arrrrghhhhhhh" at approximately 80db directly in their ear. Alternatively, pluck the item from their lap and jump up and down on it after the fashion of Basil Fawlty, before calmly returning to one's seat and re-commencing one's business with paper/book/snooze.

The Mobile Phone User
This runs a close second in the irritation stakes. Dear user, I really could not give a rat's ass about your need to arrange or rearrange your meeting, your childcare or your doctor's appointment. I couldn't give a monkey's bum about your meeting with Mike from accounts or your projected sales figures for Q3. Small furry creatures would take wing from my butt before I could bring myself to raise even a modicum of concern for your apparent need to bang on and on ad infinitum about your latest business trip or what your kids did at the weekend. And if I hear the refrain "I'm on the train" one more time, I might just jump up and down on the spot having a fit of the screaming ab dabs more usually associated with Violet Elizabeth Bott than a middle aged, chronically fatigued middle manager from Kent.The thing that really does me in about this is that particular type of self-satisfied "I'm imporant, I am" air that people often have about them while engaging in this sort of behaviour, especially when set against the raging juxtaposition of the fact that everyone else just wants to ram the sodding phone down their throat.

Proposed response: a direct steal from Trigger Happy TV. Simply take out an oversized mobile phone, have it ring and then answer it, yelling expansively into it in a one sided conversation so (a) banal or (b) thoroughly ridiculous as to leave everyone nearby floored with shock, and the perp simply unable to continue. Mostly I like to maintain a low footprint when on the train, but it would be well worth the ignominy associated with such blatant attention grabbing just to make a bloody point.

The Gaggle
This generally falls into one of two types. Either it's a gaggle of the sort of women who seem only to talk about weddings, engagements, babies and shoes, or it's blokes who talk incessantly about football.Actually no, now I consider it, there's a third type which is possibly even more annoying - young people whose conversation seems to consist only of persistent AQI and liberal sprinklings of "like" in every sentence.

Proposed response: simply ape the conversation in a loud, caracatured imitation of the topics and inflections most commonly employed by your selected victims. There's no need for a partner in this endeavour; I posit that talking loudly to oneself in this situation would be just as effective, without the need for an accomplice.

The Elbow Rest Hogger
Invariably it is blokes who usually feel the need to commandeer the elbow rest. Were I to commission a scientific study of the phenomenomenon, the findings would inevitably lead to a clear inverse relationship between this activity and penis size (and possibly dysfunction). This is closely linked to those people (again, invariably blokes) who feel compelled to sit with their legs akimbo in that well know "here are my genitals, please touch" posture. This is irritating at the best of times, but much worse when it means you find yourself squashed up against some bugger's fat hairy thigh because they refuse to keep their legs together.

Proposed response: I have two ideas for this, depending on whether I am in a protagonistic or defensive stance. Protagonist approach: at the flick of a switch, activate your stealth elbow spike which emerges at speed, spinning at a velocity guaranteed to cause maximum damage to the offending forearm. Defensive approach: engage a perspex barrier that shoots up at the precise equidistant boundary between the seats, thus categorising absolutely your space and theirs and putting an immediate and satisfying end to petty personal space contests.

There is plenty, plenty more where this came from, but I fear I must go do lates before someone calls the police.