Train’d Monkeys

Over the years I’ve noticed a few habits adopted by the idiots I’m forced to endure every day on the trains (or ‘commuters’ as they’re better known).  A lot of these habits have become such commonplace that I usually can’t be bothered to blog about them, or I simply forget.

However, this morning there were three happening all at once and my Punch-O-Meter’s needle was twitching in the red zone.

Punchometer

See?

Dangerously close.

So I’m taking time out to vent about these habits that leave me craving the sweet sound of knuckles on face.

 

1. The Multitasker

This is the person who, whilst having a conversation with someone else on the train, is also reading their phone or tablet.  Even though they’re (thankfully) not talking to me, it’s still really rude and they don’t make any attempt to hide it.

checking texts

It’s bad enough that they’re flapping their jaws while I’m trying to sleep or watch a movie, but to be doing it and not remaining committed to the conversation they’re having is like getting a drum kit for your birthday and then playing it out of rhythm, like Yugoslavian Jazz. 

If you’re going to annoy me at least have the decency to do it properly.

 

2. Casual Viewers

I’m a bit of a viewing Nazi when it comes to TV and movies.  If you’ve made a decision to sit down and watch something, then sit the fuck down and watch it. There are certain things you should never do, especially when I’m in the vicinity.

These include:

  • Talking to me.
  • Talking to someone else.
  • Talking at all.
  • Using your phone (for ANYTHING!).
  • Leaving the room without pausing it (at home obviously)
  • Eating and paying more attention to your food than the screen

The woman sat next to me on the train this morning was watching some boring shit on her tablet, but was also moronically scrolling through her Facebook newsfeed on her phone.  I use the word ‘watching’ loosely as she didn’t actually look up from her phone for almost the entire journey into London, which was an hour.

I thought about all the money spent hiring writers, producers, directors (first and second unit), actors, extras and production staff, plus all the time taken perfecting every line of every draft of the script to keep the plot engaging, every camera angle to capture the subtle nuances of the actors’ performances, the scouting for locations, the permissions needed to shoot in these locations, the time spent in principle photography, all the post production, the special effects, music, overdubs, Foley dubs, the editing process to keep the right pace, the test audiences to ensure it will satisfy the masses and bring in the bucks, the premieres, the red carpets, the press junkets; all of this wasted on some bint ‘liking’ a picture of a kitten.

It really grinds on me.  Can you tell?

Then, when she’d stopped mindlessly scrolling through the pointless crap on her newsfeed and sucked in her drool, she then spent ages rewinding what she had been ‘watching’ in an attempt to find the part where she’d tuned out.  To be honest, I don’t think this woman was ever fully tuned in.

text movie

And finally,

 

3. The Aisle Sitter

This one has always confused me. 

It’s the idiot who gets on the train, sits in an aisle seat and leaves the window seat vacant.

Why?

aisle prick

Inevitably someone else will get on and want to sit down, so rather than simply (and sensibly) moving over to the window, they make a big performance of stopping what they’re doing (sometimes tutting and sighing in the process) and awkwardly standing up in the aisle (stopping other people from getting past) to allow the new arrival access to the seat by the window.

This is time consuming and makes absolutely no sense.  It’s a commuter train which means this happens EVERY day, and EVERY day they do the same thing.  I’ve seen it with my own eyes.  Same dickheads, same thing; every day.

If they don’t want to be disturbed, then sit by the window, or find a seat next to someone who already has.

These are supposed to be intelligent people, right?  I mean, they’re wearing suits and stuff.

I’m reminded of a quote from Tim Minchin:

“We’re just fucking monkeys in shoes”

monkey platform

Taking one for the team

One of my friends posted the following status on Facebook…

“Come on my Arsenal boys!”

I’m not sure she realised how that sentence looked halfway through typing it.

No parking!

This morning I was greeted by this…

car block

Some inconsiderate prick thought it was a good idea to park their car right across my garage.

My first instinct was to get in my car and sound the horn until the fucker came out and then punch them in the face, but it was 7am and I didn’t really want to wake the whole neighbourhood.  I was angry, but that didn’t excuse me being an annoying wanker about it.

My second instinct was to kick or scratch their car, but considering my vehicle is the only one blocked in, it would’ve pretty obvious who had done the damage and I didn’t want to risk them retaliating. 

It’s not like I could move my car and hide it afterwards.

This is also the reason I resisted squatting on the bonnet and laying a hot fresh pie on their windscreen.

Shame, because the first one of the day is usually the meatiest.

And if they didn’t retaliate I could be slapped with a fine for criminal damage, which is always fun.

So instead I was terribly British and paced back and forth, muttering under my breath, and shaking my head in a misguided belief that it would somehow flush out the culprit…which it didn’t.

Instead I was left feeling more helpless and frustrated than a handcuffed pervert watching porn.

I was also angry that my four minute drive to the train station was going to result in a thirty minute uphill walk on a very, VERY cold October morning.

All I could do was take a photo (to send to my boss showing that my reason for being late is in fact genuine – not that I’m a cynic!), close my garage, lift their wiper blade up in defiance and begin my tedious walk to the station. 

I would’ve left a note under their wiper blades but annoyingly I didn’t have time to go back in the house to write it.  If I left immediately and walked at the blistering pace of an angry woman, I might just be able to make the later train.

I did, however, do the one thing that I thought might make me feel better; the one thing that may help ease my suffering and give me a sense of comfort.  I posted it on Facebook.

Within seconds I got the affirmation and acknowledgement I was so clearly craving, with lots of advice on a variety of vindictive things I could’ve done to teach this parking penis a lesson.  My favourite comment was this small poem…

 

Dear driver of the black car

Who do you think you are?

Don’t you find it bizarre…

You park but wander somewhere far?

Now my mate can’t access his car

Better this note, than my fucking crowbar!

 

Brilliant.

It’s not all work, work, work

A woman gets on the train with her friend. They natter for a bit and then the conversation stops as the woman gets out her laptop and starts typing furiously.

A lot of people do work on the train; I see it every day. Excel, PowerPoint, Word, emails…. it’s never ending.

I wonder what she’s working on. I can’t see properly because of the sunshine glaring on her screen. Whatever it is it must be important; she has a serious look on her face and her fingers are a blur on the keyboard.

Suddenly we enter a tunnel and the glare is taken away.

Facebook.

image

There seems to be a problem with your network….

Can someone please explain to me why 3G connectivity and phone signal gets progressively shittier the closer to London my train gets?

What is the deal with that?

Maybe it’s because London is such a small little town with very few mobile phone masts.  Who knows?

Having been an ‘Orange’ network subscriber for many years, I was transferred to the new ‘EE’ network, which I believe stands for ‘Everything Everywhere’.  It should be rebranded to ‘Nothing Anywhere’ or ‘NA’, which is ironically appropriate.

I swear these wanker networks turned 3G effectiveness down to make the new 4G network appear better and faster.

Luckily for me I don’t try and occupy my time on the train with the likes of Facebook.  I mean, could you imagine how annoying that would be?  Pages taking forever to refresh, status updates not updating, posts having to be drafted 5 times because they keep disappearing due to ‘no network connectivity’.

Yeah, thankfully I don’t have to put up with that shit. 

In fact, come to think of it, my commute into work is always easy and uneventful.

angryphone

Crush the Candy Saga!

What is with all the invites from my friends to play Candy Crush Saga on Facebook? Isn’t it basically bejewelled from, like, a million years ago?

Oh sorry, no, wait, this one has candy in it.

It amazes me just how much of a steaming shit I really don’t give.

Now, I’m suspecting this retard of a game is auto-inviting me on my friends’ behalf which is incredibly cuntsiderate, but I would rather dip my hairy coinpurse in peanut butter and release the hounds than play this candy coated cock of a game.

Having said that, I may have just discovered that half of my friends are in fact dribbling gibbons who thought it was a good idea to invite Dan because “he likes videogames”.

That’s like offering me a VHS copy of a shit 70s film because you’d heard I was a movie fan. Great, I’ll add it to my BluRay collection shall I?

And if I’ve insulted anyone who may have sent me invites to this game, then I am truly, utterly and sincerely overjoyed.

Game Over.

image

The appliance of wrong

There’s currently a competition on Facebook to win some kitchen appliances.

Im not promoting it in any way I hasten to add!

All you have to do is ‘like’ the page to enter the draw. It’s accompanied by a picture which I’ve included in this blog.

Now is it me, or do the words just under the child seem a little inappropriate?