The Metro
The Herald AM
Gang Rape
What do the three above things have in common?
Well, a lot actually. Firstly, I will point out that they are three things that I rarely, if ever, like to face first thing in the morning. The trouble is, due to my impossible good looks and my daily Luas trips, they're unavoidable. Sometimes, like this morning, you get all three in one. I used to smile politely at the Metro people and shake my head at their kind offer of some free toilet roll, but lately I have been slightly more aggressive in my dismissals. I have started to scoff at them as I passed the outstretched paper holding arms, and begun wildly gesturing that I'd rather french kiss Ian Huntley than read their rags. Anyway, this morning. So, I was striding into Cowper Luas station like a champion Racehorse when I was happened upon by a Metro dispenser lady. I duly demonstrated my disgust at such and offer and flapped my arms about and muttered something about having taste when she demonstrated her new tactic. Like a deranged gazelle, she twisted herself and somehow acrobatically managed to be both sides of me at once. Her paper, was like a laser guided missile of bad journalism and I could sense that I was about to be hit. Her smile, part Lithuanian goddess, part sinister paper Nazi, widened as she homed in on me. I had attempted a dodgy shuffle to avoid but this only succeeded in dislodging one of my earphones. My scoff had turned to horror, as within a nano-second, I could feel the cheap ink on my skin. She had delivered the payload. Like a neglected Donkey, I stumbled along the platform and eventually found a bin. I felt cheapened. Beaten. Hungry. I dumped the paper into it and boarded the Luas.
Of course, it doesn't get any better. The luas is a horrible place to be in the mornings. People coughing and sniffling. Different classes, mixing and rubbing against each other. Women with huge prams mowing down the weak. People, body-surfing to get out. What really gets me is how EVERYONE is reading the Herald AM or the Metro. This morning, my adventures continued when I squeezed onto the last available space on the tram. I was standing on my tip-toes as there was literally not enough room for all my feet to fit on the floor when a guy beside me tipped me on the shoulder. He had had his Herald AM open and was attempting to read whatever shit was in it, when I had invaded his reading space. He asked me to move, in that silent way somebody talks when they have earphones in. So, I ignored him in that silent way that somebody does when they have earphones in. Again, he was getting more aggressive now and he opened the paper out in all it's 'glory' and proceeded make a big fuss about brushing it off me. The thing is, everyone else was doing this.
I felt like I'd arrived into a library with a trombone.
When, all I really wished was that I'd arrived onto a Luas, with a shotgun.
The Herald AM
Gang Rape
What do the three above things have in common?
Well, a lot actually. Firstly, I will point out that they are three things that I rarely, if ever, like to face first thing in the morning. The trouble is, due to my impossible good looks and my daily Luas trips, they're unavoidable. Sometimes, like this morning, you get all three in one. I used to smile politely at the Metro people and shake my head at their kind offer of some free toilet roll, but lately I have been slightly more aggressive in my dismissals. I have started to scoff at them as I passed the outstretched paper holding arms, and begun wildly gesturing that I'd rather french kiss Ian Huntley than read their rags. Anyway, this morning. So, I was striding into Cowper Luas station like a champion Racehorse when I was happened upon by a Metro dispenser lady. I duly demonstrated my disgust at such and offer and flapped my arms about and muttered something about having taste when she demonstrated her new tactic. Like a deranged gazelle, she twisted herself and somehow acrobatically managed to be both sides of me at once. Her paper, was like a laser guided missile of bad journalism and I could sense that I was about to be hit. Her smile, part Lithuanian goddess, part sinister paper Nazi, widened as she homed in on me. I had attempted a dodgy shuffle to avoid but this only succeeded in dislodging one of my earphones. My scoff had turned to horror, as within a nano-second, I could feel the cheap ink on my skin. She had delivered the payload. Like a neglected Donkey, I stumbled along the platform and eventually found a bin. I felt cheapened. Beaten. Hungry. I dumped the paper into it and boarded the Luas.
Of course, it doesn't get any better. The luas is a horrible place to be in the mornings. People coughing and sniffling. Different classes, mixing and rubbing against each other. Women with huge prams mowing down the weak. People, body-surfing to get out. What really gets me is how EVERYONE is reading the Herald AM or the Metro. This morning, my adventures continued when I squeezed onto the last available space on the tram. I was standing on my tip-toes as there was literally not enough room for all my feet to fit on the floor when a guy beside me tipped me on the shoulder. He had had his Herald AM open and was attempting to read whatever shit was in it, when I had invaded his reading space. He asked me to move, in that silent way somebody talks when they have earphones in. So, I ignored him in that silent way that somebody does when they have earphones in. Again, he was getting more aggressive now and he opened the paper out in all it's 'glory' and proceeded make a big fuss about brushing it off me. The thing is, everyone else was doing this.
I felt like I'd arrived into a library with a trombone.
When, all I really wished was that I'd arrived onto a Luas, with a shotgun.
