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.

When commuters get on a bus, with their seats arranged so you're not facing others, it is less strange. However, every passenger wants the front seats on the top deck. In built into everyone is the childish ambition to pretend to be 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 buries 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.

Escalator To Hell

The sky is black. The ground is wet. The faces of people are miserable. It's a dull morning in London, and you're entering an underground station, with many others, like germs entering a wound. After all, the underground is essentially just a sewer for people. They drain in off the streets, and are quickly washed away underground, with the accompanying smell being a mixture of different bodily excretions.

Anyway, you've entered the station, and paid for the displeasure. Now you're the other side of the gates, and joining the crowd that surrounds the entrance onto the escalator. The mob slowly filters on, thanks to the guidance of a man in a florescent jacket who brings order to the anarchy. You step on and are taken on a long journey, which takes you deeper and deeper into the subterranean world that exists below the streets of London.

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 Londoner's 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!'

Tourists with Cameras

When one braves the crowds of central London, we expect to be bumped and shoved by tourists; just as much as one can expect to see Big Ben or St Paul's Cathedral on the distant skyline. We deal with this in a typically British manner: we tut and moan under our breath, careful not to let anyone overhear us, for fear of coming across as a bit of a racist. Of course, 'tourist' doesn't necessarily mean foreign, but most Londoner's seem to treat everything outside the M25 as 'foreign', with their grass and wildlife.

The main problem with tourists on the streets of London, is their insatiable need to photograph everything they see. A pigeon. An over flowing bin. A still-moist splat of abandoned chewing gum. Another pigeon. A grey cloud. An empty Starbucks cup. A gang of pigeons. A policeman. A drunk being arrested by said policeman. A seagull. A set of green traffic lights taken in the middle of a road. A blurry shot of Big Ben.

London Etiquette

There are lots of people in London; far too many in fact. There are streets where you could burrow a tunnel, using just your fingernails, quicker than you could walk along the pavement. 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.