Soliloquy – Things can be better. I could just get off the ground and fly.
Everybody does something to express their annoyance with certain things. It’s a universal sound. Its called the ‘tut’. I shall demonstrate.... There is a face that goes with it but everyone to their own. Other names are tutting, tut-tut, rutting. However they all mean the same thing. Even if your level of tolerance is rather high it just falls out of your mouth before you can catch it. I try and keep it internal for my own safety but sometimes it just turns into words. That’s a big problem you see for me. A big problem. I am just so vexed about everything.
My harangue begins now.
I always use various methods to get around. Chopping and changing to suit my mood and the time of year but the opinions I have remain the same. I just add more details. I am on my way to work. Walking. Already on my way. The way in which I normally go. The same small obstructions; a traffic light, a couple disputing about commitment, attention seeking young brats with middle ages mothers contemplating their lives of leisure and a recently squished rodent adding to last night’s vomit residue. Monday. The norm. Damn, I really wish I got that overpriced coffee a couple of minutes ago. Ahhhh that froffy milk foamy stuff. I am on my way to work. Walking. I’m distracted by a huge sale sign. It’s still early but I go in anyway, dashing past the browsers and approach the fragrance counter. Decisions. Decisions. My nose has been completely bombarded. Also, just to clarify. When I walk into a store I’m not trying to make a friend, but anyhow The shop assistant assures me that what I’ve picked will titillate my partner’s interest and hopefully spice up our relationship. I bloody hope so. Sale? More like swindling with kindness. ‘Rape us Now’ or ‘Rape us Now’. The heavens decide to open abruptly, thank you very much. Within seconds my umbrella turns from a cosy canopy to a flimsy fucker. Fuck! Right in the middle of a zebra crossing. A man in a BMW has to come to a blinding Holt to stare at my incompetence. It’s still green. I have time. I can fix it. I will see if I can fix it. To onlookers I look very classy but within the blink of an eye I look like I’m having a raging fit. Vigorously shaking, banging, bending, boshing the umbrella. Well you can wait there male chauvinist. Don’t give me that piercing stare. I can see an angry cyclist calling out a van man at the nearest junction, banging on the car window aggressively before sharply leaving in a huff with a wonky helmet. Everyday. Not the rain though. No that choses its perfect moment to pounce. I think it has a personality.
Jump on a bus. Move move move, yes I have a seat. I will do this you see. Skip things, add things, review things, scrap things etc...It completely amazes me that the obnoxiously screeching, abusive people on public transport actually try to draw attention to themselves. The people who venture out from their holes/pits onto daytime public transport seem to have a strange need for everybody else to know that they are there and they do this by being as loud as humanly possible. It is not enough to just be loud though, they also swear as much as possible and bang on things whilst chewing loudly and with their mouths open like cows chewing on grass. Yes, so big that you just want to shove a plug in it.
I like to think that I am a considerate person. Rewind. I am the most considerate person. If I am on the phone in public, I always try and keep the volume down so that I don’t disturb others. If I’m listening to music, I turn the volume down and take the earplugs out of my ears to see how loud it is...I do that.
I seem to be in the minority though because for some reason, everybody else seems to think that public transport is the most ideal place to listen to music as loud as possible. They are also under the impression that public transport is the most impeccable place to call up their partner and have a full- on domestic down the flaming phone. Right in my face.
‘I prepared dinner last night...you said you said’ Yeh love, yeh love, I'm on it, I'm on it’
‘No worries yeh, what you talking about?!’ ‘you’re not the same person anymore’
‘I’m not sad’
‘Are you said sad?’
-I’m on the bus!’
Wawawawawawa. Am I going to put the phone down? No? are you having a laugh?! I’m just going to repeat everything I just said but even faster.
Get a grip you stupid bitch! I thought to myself. I imagined grabbing her phone and stomping on the fucking thing or throwing it out onto the busy road shouting ‘fetch’ to see her brain cells would manage.
Get me off this bus and onto a train.
I approach the ticket barriers. I feel I need more space so I go to the larger barrier. Ticket through, gate opens, I’m happy. Why is there a man that’s stopped to look at a map right in my way? You are completely oblivious. Pig. Make a large sigh and carry on. Earwigs are the worst. We are all guilty with being nosey parkers but there is a line. It’s a big fat one. But sometimes they come uninvited. Small example. Im at the end of the train carriage in a conversation with a friend. Some nerdy, Harry Potter looking, dare I say it ‘thing’ interrupts. “Excuse me ladies, if I’m wrong you can push me off this train but I don’t think we should pay taxes’. Sorry....do I look like a fucking radio?! I didn’t realise I was broadcasting my conversion to this fucking carriage.
I know what you’re thinking.
Yes everyone gets robbed in London. Yes, everyone is mugged, It’s very dangerous.
Well why you don’t reduce travel costs so we don’t have to carry around so much fucking money.
I did a little calculation for myself. I am going to read it to you. Bear with me. In a year I spend £3,800 to deal with all of this shit. That’s around 4,500 euro a year to have somebody barge into my conversion without asking! What a bloody joke!
I’m international and very cultured so I make frequent visits to the airport.
Just about every single time I fly I am always selected for the ‘random’ bomb screenings. This is an absolute pain in the arse, what I joke. I have already been through every bomb detection equipment humanly possible and now I need someone to feel me up and down, this is pretty much rape. All the attention is then drawn on to me. Every time. Why do I need to take off everything but my underwear to go through security? The inconsistency between airports is so confusing for your average traveller. Take off boots, leave boots on. They can go together, no they can’t. Arms up, arms
down, turn around, touch the ground and I certainly don’t need some minimum wage bint to tell me to ‘take a tray darling’. Always I’m stuck behind some dumb bitch who has apparently never been to an airport before and cannot read the huge signs saying ‘take your fucking coat off!’ so I have to wait for her to undo all ten of her buttons. As if that wasn’t enough she is now frantically arguing with the bint trying to explain that she ‘didn’t realise’ the maximums for liquid is 100ml. No, it does not matter if it’s made from fish oils and papaya tree juices and you found it in The Land of Oz. Get a grip and get a fucking move on.
Then obviously we have the rape.
Ok, putting my clothes back, the many items of clothes back on after I’ve gone through security is the weirdest, strangest thing. When people are taking their clothes off, everyone takes their sweet ass time to do it but when people put them back on all hell breaks loose and it’s a fighting frenzy. Stop reaching over m tray to get yours, don’t shove me, I’m not going to take your bag believe me. Look. Listen. I waited for you to unload your baggage and your squillions of layers so you can fucking hold tight dear, ok.
The race is ongoing until you are reunited with your hold bag. No, they have not called your seat, sit down. No, the aircraft has not stopped moving, sit down. No they have no switched off the fasten seat belt sign, sit down. No, I have not even got my bag yet, move aside and fuck off. Even if you don’t want to be part of this race, you are trapped and the pressure amounts. I always briskly walk to security where I find myself standing behind another dumb bitch who is winging, moaning and whining about the fact that the machines won’t let her through. Stupid bitch, why don’t you read the hundreds of signs when you approached the machine that told you to take your glasses off instead of flying the fleet of this barbaric race.
Im finished. I want some tea.
