People in the City

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London Etiquette

There are lots of people in London; far too many in fact. It is impossible to be out in London without thinking, at least once, that it's been a long while since a healthy proportion of humanity was wiped out by an epidemic. Swine flu just never really caught on like us misanthropes hoped for.

In order for society to be considered a successful one, all of its inhabitants need to get on in perfect harmony. London is not an example of one such society. We just don't function together. I think it is because the residents of London can be split into two categories.

Firstly, there are those of us go through life, head down with the intention of blending seamlessly into the dingy backdrop of London. They are quintessentially British. They plug themselves into a headphone socket and upload a facial expression of extreme stoicism onto their face. These are the sorts of people who apologise profusely, despite them being completely devoid of blame, for walking into the back of someone who randomly stopped in the middle of the pavement. In fact, apologising becomes as regular as breathing.

The truly British members of our society are the people who, when asked, say yes to someone asking to take an empty chair from their table in a café, despite their friend only nipping off for the toilet. They are the sort of person who, despite starting the queue to enter the approaching train, will be the last person getting on; after everyone has pushed themselves on first.

The other half of society are difficult to categorise. They look British, sound British, and even tick 'British' when filling out forms. But they don't think or act British.

These faux-British individuals are guilty of unapologetically stopping in the middle of a crowded street, for no apparent reason, and expecting to part the crowds around them like a modern-day Moses. They see a queue forming, and yet decide to walk around said line, as if the unspoken rules of Britishness don't apply to them. They are the people who get to the barriers at the station before unapologetically searching for their Oyster Card, rather than being prepared five stops beforehand.

Yes, you read right. Worse of all, they are unapologetic. They will elbow you out of the way without so much of a mimed apology. These people don't even perform the 'No, I Insist You Go First' dance; they will just march through the door like it's their God-given right. They even have the audacity to look you in the eyes when they sit opposite you on the tube, as if they're expecting you to allow them to put their feet up on your lap.

Unfortunately, this way of insolently striding through life is catching. More and more people are becoming like this in London. And with the ability of humans to travel quickly and freely through the country, it is undoubtedly spreading. Let's just hope these are the initial symptoms of the epidemic that will cull half the London population.

Learn Your Left from Your Right

Londoners are a very patient bunch, who take life in their stride. They are free spirits, and never rush to be anywhere. The Londoner will just mill about, with no particular purpose. They wake up in the dark, and venture out in the drizzling rain, just for the fun of it.

Well, that's what some people must think. These people must mistake Londoners for being a bunch of compassionate individuals. Why else would they stand on the left side of escalators? The only way they could make the rule any simpler, is if Cbeebies did a cheerily patronising song with the lyrics: 'By standing on the right, You're always in the right!'

The trouble is, that people stand on the left through absolute pig-headedness. They have spotted the limp and depressing conga line forming up the right side of an escalator, and opted to have a little silent protest on the left. Maybe they're raging against the machine. Maybe they're just getting their jollies by making men in suits stand behind them, tut tut tutting. Or maybe they are just completely ignorant.

Either way, this is a mistake one will only make a few times before they surrender, and start to stand on the right. Everyone knows you stand on the right, and climb on the left. Some people will impolitely ask to be excused past. Others will just push past, whilst trying to whack them with their brief case. Either way, inevitably, if you stand in the way, you're going to get bruised ankles.

The Commuter

Have you ever been in a milking shed? The cows are all herded in through the doors, where they take their position, lined up next to, and opposite, other cows. They are then hooked up to a machine, and then stare at each other for an indefinite period of time while the process of draining their udders continues.

Have you ever been on the Jubilee Line? The passengers crowd in through the doors, where they take their seat next to, and opposite, other commuters. While their Oyster Card is draining of money, they sit and stare at each other blankly, whilst trying to ignore each other's existence, for an undetermined amount of time. This is a strange, and inhuman experience.

On a bus, every passenger wants the front seats on the top deck. In built into everyone is the childish ambition to pretend to be a bus driver. Therefore, they will unremorsefully kick, push and shove others to try and get to the coveted seat. If, after fighting their way up the stairs first, they find the seats occupied, that might just push them over the edge, resulting in a faintly audible sound of exasperation.

However, regular commuters, regardless of whether they are on a bus, tube or train, have developed a keen sense of their whereabouts. The commuter can be sat, head buried in their free morning newspaper or book, and without lifting an eye, know their position on the route. Perhaps it is an understanding of speed, sound and time. Or it might be that their bottom has memorised every bump, or every sway. Either way, the London commuter can unquestionably stand, make their way to the door and step outside onto the right platform or stop with absolute precision, and without ever averting their gaze.

The commuter is perhaps modern-day proof of Darwin's theory of evolution.

The Endangered Cockney

We have grown up with the expectation that London, particularly the East, is filled with charming Cockneys. One expects London streets to be filled with people doffing their cap with an "Awright geeezza". Or to hear a vocalisation of surprise not dissimilar to "Gaaaaawd blimey; yer 'avin' a giraffe!" Instead, one walks down the street to the sounds of tooth sucking and people going '"O.M.G".

The true Cockney, seen in films such as Mary Poppins and Oliver!, is gone. The occasional one might be selling actual apples and pears, or coming to fix your gas boiler with a smiley disposition, but they are becoming a rare sight in London. If one wants to see lots of Cockneys in one place, visit Whitstable in Kent. The seaside town is full of tube and taxi drivers talking in colourful accents and rhymes. But not in London.

Instead, London is frequented by teenagers who hang about in car parks, constantly asking each other "D'yew know wot I'm sayin'?" and "D'yew ge' me, like?". These two phrases are usually interspersed by simple nouns and verbs to create something reminiscent of a 'sentence'.

Of course, there is a slight hint of Cockneyism in how they talk now, and people will still call each other "mate" or "darling", but little else remains. London is full of professional suit wearers, who talk in  business jargon drivel, foreigners speaking their native tongues, and unemployed tracksuit wearers, who speak in, like, bad similes.

The Cockney is now nearly as dead as a Dodo, so don't go expecting Dick Van Dyke to be gracing the streets.