REARVIEW:AS A DAILY train commuter, I know a thing or two about public transport. It has served me well. It gets me to and from and gives me two hours a day to lose myself in music and books. In fact, it'd be perfect were it not for one thing: the general public, moronic mass of mediocrity that it is.
Sadly, societal convention dictates that I am not allowed to physically murder people to whom I take a dislike.
Therefore, I’m going to outline a few rules in the hope that my tormentors will take note, thus obviating the need for jail.
First, if you’re on a packed train and a pregnant woman or other person more deserving than you gets on, offer them your seat. Don’t pretend to be asleep or engrossed in the most incredible reading matter since Moses produced his tablets. You’re fooling nobody but yourself.
Speaking of reading, peering over my shoulder at my book is pretty much going to guarantee you’ll get an elbow in the nose – followed by a apology so cloyingly insincere that you’ll want me to hit you again to distract you from the shame of humiliation in front of sniggering fellow travellers.
Don’t rub your leg off me, be you ogre, glamorous Amazon or otherwise. I’m tired, hungry and just want to be left alone. Being frotterised by a stranger is not on my list of priorities.
One last thing. When you are seated across from a stranger, it’s generally good etiquette to shut your legs. Knees akimbo’s a no-no. Unless you want me to geld you with my boot. In which case, I’d be only too happy to oblige.