London Victoria underground station was closed tonight due to ‘someone being taken ill’.
There’s no way someone said “I think I’ve got the flu coming on” and they shouted “Stop everything!”
I suspect it’s a more subtle version of “someone being liquidated by a train”.
If it’s not I can assure you that I, and about a thousand people frantically redirecting to other stations to escape the city like a frantic piss out of a pair of leaky rubber pants, will be hoping they feel better long enough to fall under the next train that’s “not stopping at Victoria”
It was utter bedlam tonight with agitated commuters strutting around directionless looking for an alternative way of getting home, and failing.
I made my way to London Bridge station as I knew I could get home from there and stood waiting for my platform to be announced.
It’s always been platform 5 whenever I’ve travelled from this station so I went through the barrier into the station, up the escalator and waited patiently by the platform entrance.
It was 6 minutes until my train was due to leave and the platform still hadn’t been announced.
Where the fuck is platform 9?? There’s only platforms 1 to 6!
I ran down the escalator, back through the barriers, out of the station and saw there was another entrance which had platforms 7 and up.
There is nothing more infuriating than the possibility I was going to miss my train despite having been there for ages!
And, true to form, all the commuters had been switched to ‘slow, ambling, zombie fuckwad mode’; making my run that much more varied with slaloming, hurdles, chicanes, twists, turns and twats at every step.
I bolted through the masses, up the escalator, through the barriers to the platforms and ran (a concept unfamiliar to the cretins around me) down the platform alongside the train.
Ideally I wanted to be at the front of the train, but it was about to leave so I boarded halfway down and continued my journey inside.
It was at this point that some suited prick boarded the train at the next doorway and cut in front of me, only to then stand still.
Oops, my mistake, he WAS walking but at a speed which I could be forgiven for mistaking as ‘stationary’.
In fact, ‘Mr Stop’ here was so piss-achingly slow, I got off the train, walked down the platform and boarded ahead of him (on the same carriage) so I could continue at a pace that actually involved putting one foot in front of the other.
No sooner had I traversed another carriage than a woman did the exact same thing and cut in front of me; moving at sloth-like speed while she decided where to sit on this virtually empty train.
It amazes me how these people function day to day.
I sat down and took out my phone to begin writing this blog entry.
It took around 40 minutes to write (as autocorrect can be a bitch) and, as I sat thinking about how I could end it, I looked up and saw Mr Stop finally taking his seat.