London Undergrind!!

Posted on Oct 29, 2012 by headinablender

Faaaaarkin’ hell!

What a tube journey!!

The whole thing started badly when I left work late which usually means I miss my train from London by literally one minute.

One. Whole. Minute.

I made it to the tube station, having successfully avoided black cabs and ninja cyclists, and attempted to enter the station. And when I say attempted, I mean attempted. It’s amazing how many people just stop dead when walking, or don’t know how to walk forward.

It’s not that hard; it’s the direction your fuck ugly face is pointing. Can we please fit these people with brake lights or, at the very least, indicators??

I managed to slalom these bungling bell-ends and get through the ticket barrier (which, interestingly, was the only thing that was reliable this evening). I then joined the escalator and started walking down on the left, which is the understood escalator etiquette on London’s underground network. I made it half way down when some twat stood on the right realised everyone on the left was walking down and decided to step out and join them, taking each step at the speed of dark. The stationary people on the right arrived at the bottom quicker.

Finally I made it onto the platform just as a train pulled in. “Result” I thought to myself as I jumped on.

The train then sat there for four minutes, which, on the underground, equates to about 3 weeks.

Finally we pulled off and we bumped, swerved and jiggled our way to my final destination. Great if the carriage was full of busty bikini clad girls.

It wasn’t.

The good news is…I could still make my train here.

We all got off. And it was at this point I was utterly and violently fascinated by the speed we all disembarked. It defies logic that people in a hurry….aren’t! It’s not because of bottle-necking or anything because I managed to wriggle through the plodding pillocks like a good looking knife through thuddingly dumb butter. I now know where George A. Romero got his inspiration, although his zombies would go hungry with the lack of delicious grey matter in the vicinity.

At last i made it to the final escalator and decided to opt for the left hand side walk up. This time no-one stepped out in front of me because they were all too bloody lazy, and they didn’t need to as the person in front of me was clearly struggling to climb the steps. Would it have been wrong to grab them by the shoulders, shove them to the right and exclaims “for fuck’s sake!!” Loudly as I stomp past? Hmm….possibly. I opted for silent rage.

I made it to the top, through the rest of George’s flock, through another non-obstructive ticket barrier and onto the conc…. onto the conc…. onto the conc…

Will you get out of the fucking way people!!!!

…onto the concourse. Jesus! It seemed no-one could walk in a straight line, or continue without stopping, or control their kids, or luggage, or their knuckles as they dragged along the floor.

It’s been an emotional journey and, oh look, I’ve missed my train by one minute.

I’ll huff and I’ll puff….

Posted on Oct 22, 2012 by headinablender

The train I’m on had been sat in the starting station for 20 minutes with no real explanation as to why (which came as no surprise).

What I found amusing were the huffer puffers; the commuters who feel it necessary to huff and puff to show they’re annoyed and inconvenienced. I swear these people have the deluded idea that the more they huff and the louder they puff, the sooner the train will leave.

Anyway, the amusing thing about these carbon dioxide producing dickheads and their vocal exhalations is when their overwhelming need to ‘beat the system’ backfires.

Allow me to clarify.

The guard’s cockney voice came on the tannoy to apologise for the delay and that we’ll be underway at some point, but he didn’t know when. The HPs all HP’d in unison and started filing off the train like some trade union strike.

This was clearly in an attempt to ‘stick it to the man’ by jumping on a later train that will no doubt leave the station earlier than this one.

No sooner had about 8 people got off, the doors shut and the train pulled away.

Ha ha! Gutted.

The plants are going to have to photosynthesise for England tonight.

Forrest Grump….

Posted on Oct 1, 2012 by headinablender

Clip clop clip clop clip clop CLIP CLOP CLIP CLOP CLIPCLOPCLIPCLOP!

That’s the sound of ME running for the train like a deranged donkey; bag and brolly flailing in my wake as I slalom shuffling commuters like a survivor in a zombie apocalypse. I think I took out some kid with my bag, but its hard to tell…I mean this blood and snot could’ve come from anywhere, right? Right?? And whose tooth is this?

Anyway…

Why am I so late? Well let me tell you.

I drove to the station this morning in the realisation that my monthly travel card had expired and I needed another one. At least, I was hoping the police would believe that when I have to explain how I achieved the 13 minute drive in 7.

But that aside…

I then power minced from the car to the station. I can’t call it a power walk, because it was that kind of walk that’s a little faster than a power walk; it’s almost a run, but not. It’s what the professional walkers do. Hmm, maybe I’ll rewrite this paragraph.

I walked to the station like a toned Olympic athlete, and prided myself on getting there super early so I had time to get my ticket.

Queue.

Massive queue.

Shit.

So I took my place at the back of this miserable and unmoving conga line. And as I’m stood there among the zombies, I could hear the requests from the shufflers at the front who had made it to the coveted ticket window. Amongst the genuine requests for tickets, I also heard this little gem; “Can I have a ticket for tomorrow please?”

What?? Are you effing KIDDING me?? You’re not even travelling today?

There was also this little delight; “How much is it to Croydon?”. Normal enough, except this penis wasn’t even buying a ticket…he just wanted to know the price!

Of course, none of this was done in stasis; the clock was still ticking and it was getting incredibly close to my train pulling in. One woman in front of me must’ve been in the same situation as she kept huffing, puffing and sighing heavily whilst constantly looking at her watch.

Reminds me of sex with my ex.

So I finally make it to the sacred fenestrated wall and I’m done in under 20 seconds. People behind me are clapping and cheering; one woman is crying; someone gives me their baby to kiss. It was emotional.

Ok, that didn’t actually happen, but we all thought it.

I turn on my heel and bolt for the platform barrier, which is where I began this tale.

I literally run all the way up the slope, onto the platform, straight onto the train (as the door closes right behind me) and into a seat. What a great feeling; made even better by seeing a woman do the same behind me, but she was too late; stopped by Mr Jobsworth on the platform.

I’m not great at lip reading, but I think she just said “you can’t! You’re far, king sheet and can’t!” Dunno what that means.

Her snot nosed kid didn’t look impressed. It might be because he had a nose bleed, and he seemed to be missing a tooth.

You snooze you lose.

Posted on Sep 28, 2012 by headinablender

This morning I did that rare thing of waking up a whole minute before my alarm went off. This instantly sent a rush of mixed feelings through me.

On one hand I’m as chuffed as chips that my body clock is so cool it can tell when I’m supposed to be getting up. If it had a voice it would casually lean over to me and smugly say “who needs a clock when I’m this good?”, but it can’t…so I’ll shut up.

On the other hand I’m deprived of that gorgeous sensation when you realise you’ve got hours left of sleep and can snuggle back into your warm pillow and rejoin your old maths teacher and her pet unicorn, Alan, as they try and navigate through your old school (which looks suspiciously like your place of work) en route to finding the washing machine that will finally clean the chicken you’re hoping to cook for dinner when Michael Jackson comes to visit.

(Dreams; they make no sense. They’re daft and ridiculous, and yet we don’t question or challenge them, despite most if us being intelligent and rationally minded individuals. No, instead we just blindly go with it. A lot like watching TOWIE really).

So I was a bit annoyed laying there in bed looking at my alarm clock as I knew that going back to sleep wasn’t an option. In 60 seconds or less I was about to be ripped from ‘Operation Chickenwash’ by some twat on the radio trying to be funny.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. (This minute is taking longer than usual)

And there it was. The loud and unfunny drivel from some mindless fool blaring out of my clock radio to remind me I had another exciting day in the office before the weekend.

I reach over, fumble a bit and -click-

The snooze button.

Aaaaaaaah, that’s better. See you in 9 minutes sucker.

By the way, why is it 9 minutes? Why not 10…or 8? I think it originated in Germany:

Klaus – “It is time to get up out of ze bed Hans”
Hans – “But I vant to sleep longer”
Klaus – “Ok, shall I vake you in a few minutes?”
Hans – “Nein”

I could be wrong of course…

But that said, I am the king of the snooze button, the lord of lazy, the duke of…well you get what I mean. At weekends I’ve been known to snooze for up to 4 hours. I love it. I can’t get enough of it. If only I could put a snooze button on people…that would be nice. Maybe I’ll have the word ‘snooze’ tattooed on my knuckles. At least I’ll get 9 minutes peace.

I then start doing that thing where I tell myself when I’m going to get up. It’s usually on one of the 5 minute intervals; for example…I’ll get up at quarter past. But then I accidentally snooze till 16 minutes past. Do I get straight up as promised? Do I fuck! Now I tell myself I’m going to get up at 20 past. But then the song on the radio is one of my favourites, so I’ll get up AFTER its finished and captain twat is back. Oh, but by then it’s 22 minutes past. Ok, I’ll get up at half past.

I was late leaving the house today.

Forrest Chump…

Posted on Sep 13, 2012 by headinablender

Clip clop clip clop clip clop CLIP CLOP CLIP CLOP! That’s the sound of a business man running, getting closer behind me.

I move to the side as the puffing blur of black polyester whizzes by. His train has just pulled in and he’s still got 50 metres and a bridge (complete with up and down stairs) to navigate. Other people are similarly moving left and right like traffic to an ambulance in order to allow Insain Bolt here the chance to miss his train in spectacular fashion.

This should be interesting.

I want to scream “come on sunshine, you can make it!”, but there’s also that little bit of me that wants him to miss it (Mwah hah hah!). I prepare a mild smirk just in case he does…

He makes it to the platform and disappears from view behind the train. Did he make it? Place your bets, place your bets!

The train pulls out and…and…he’s still stood there. Teased by the train standing in the station when he gets there but the doors were locked and the guard looks on all powerful and officious. Been there. Gutted. Ha ha.

I, like many others overtaken by this optimistically deluded Forrest Gump, walk past him with that ‘bet you’re glad you ran now eh?’ look on our faces as he desperately tries to style out his heavy panting. He’s leaning casually against the fence, texting with one hand trying to mask his overwhelming need to drain the town of oxygen by ‘gently’ breathing through his nose. It’s like trying to quickly down a pint through a straw. If it were me I’d be on all fours, wheezing and being dramatic.

I’m just saying.

Ready thyself for my prepared smirk….

Sometimes time just isn’t on your side…

Posted on Aug 16, 2012 by headinablender

Snoozing through the alarm – 20 mins
Showering, brushing teeth etc – 20 mins
Getting dressed and ready to leave the house – 10 mins
Realising I’m running late and might miss my train – minus 7 mins
Powerwalking the 20 min walk to the station in the rain – 15 mins
Finding out the train is 12 mins late anyway so I’m forced to stand on the platform in the rain, hot and sweaty, holding a brolly in one hand and updating my status with the other – timeless.

Arse.