A game of squash anyone?

The London Victoria tube station was a nightmare this morning. 

It was packed solid with bodies all desperate to mash themselves against the stranger in front of them, just to get to a place that deprived them of a lovely lay in this morning; work.

As I watched each train come and go, taking with them various sized chucks of the masses, I was edging closer and closer to the front of the herd, and subsequently the edge of the platform.

“Stay behind the yellow line ladies and gentlemen!” came a man’s voice, barking over the tannoy.

I looked down, and sure enough there was a yellow line a few inches away from the concrete precipice of death that I was unnervingly close to.  I tried to shuffle backwards but considering there was a wall of iPads, handbags, newspapers and groins behind me, I didn’t shuffle very far.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please continue to move down the platform!”, came the earsplitting tannoy again.

He was starting to sound annoyed.  I suspect he wanted to bookmark his sentences with “For fuck’s sake” and “What is wrong with you people?”, but had decided against it for his love of a salary.  I had read between the lines.

“Please continue to move down the platform!  There is heavy congestion at the back of the platform and there’s more room at the front of the platform; please continue to move down the platform!”
 
There was a small pause before he continued; this time with an air of lighthearted sarcasm.

“You never know, you might actually be able to get on the train”.

I smirked.  Good for him.

There was another short pause before his exasperated voice came back.

“Or alternatively you could just ignore what I’m saying and stay exactly where you are, getting nowhere!”

A few of us chuckled.  None of us moved.

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