he's right

London tube etiquette is a refined art, like beating up old people for their change.

How about those people that are going to stand their ground regardless of the commuters around them? The ignorant arse-brained dick faces that think as long as they don't have to move it's OK. You know who you are Mr glasses or Ms big scarf. Oh and don't forget Lil' Miss sneak round the side while we are waiting for people to get off the train before getting on.

And those indecisive bastards who just stand there in the middle of the walkway. And don't get me started on the retards that continue to bring on those wheelie cases of death. What is in them? A t shirt that says 'I need to wheel my insignificant life about'?

Oh it makes me so mad.

But I am trying to make amends. I am trying to adopt a certain zen-like quality on the tube, to distance myself from the anger and the hate. To do that I remember true fear on the tube.

No, not 7/7. I was in bed that day.

It was the day the scariest human being I have ever been close to stepped on my carriage.

He was about 6'5", weighed in excess of 16 stone. Cap depicting some sort of wolf creature, shorts (it was January) and a waistcoat that only fat guys know where to get. He stomped on and was breathing heavily. He glared round with his beady eyes of perturbed hatred and then focussed on the advert in front of him with the pretty girl. She was advertising some English language college and she wasn't bothering anyone with her pearly whites.

He reached into his pocket with his massive hand and pulled out a pound coin. He then went about frantically scrapping off her face while shouting obscenities. He looked round, probably praying for disapproval, and then stomped off. He could have eaten my head.

So when lefty middle class won't move because he has his little space and that's that, I think of the big man and his pound and am just thankful he isn't near me.