Commuter says no

Try to be positive about everything. After all, you only live once and there are always people who are worse off than you. Count your blessings and appreciate everything available to you. Modern life is actually not that rubbish.

Among plenty of other reasons, I love London because of the public transport. You don't need to drive a car because there are loads of buses, tubes, trains and even boats to get you from point A to point B, via various other points if necessary, or unnecessary.

When I travel, I'm usually in a pretty good mood. I also like to think I'm quite a considerate commuter, giving up my seat for people less able to stand than I am, standing out of the way to allow people on and off the train/bus, not poking or slapping people, and so on. However, some people just seem to set out to ruin other people's perfectly good journeys to and from work.

Now, I'm going to bitch about commuters who do the following:

Applying makeup on the train.

I'm sure it's fine to put on a little bit of lippy or your mascara, because we all know time is short in the mornings, but why did one girl insist on plucking her eyebrows in front of me? Not only this, she kept totally missing her eyebrows and was visibly and painfully plucking her SKIN. She put me off chicken for a week. Also, if you're going to apply a full face of makeup in front of 50 total strangers, why bother at all? We all know what you look like under there now.

Diving into a packed train as the doors close.

There is no more room. There will be another train along in a minute, and possibly plenty more after that.

Being perverts.

Please keep your hands and eyes to yourself. I seem to be cursed with grotesque guys wanting to sit next to me. The Metropolitan line is usually full of empty seats at hometime, but 3-foot-short weasly grease-monkey bloke will ALWAYS come and sit next to me. Or opposite me. And keep staring. STOP IT.

Pokey elbows.

We're not all 6 feet tall. Please remember this when you randomly fling your elbows about a packed commuter train. My nose thanks you.

Swipe your Oyster card, not your hand.

Similarly, please do not randomly wave your arms about as you leave a busy train. Let go of the pole you were using to support yourself BEFORE you begin to walk, and your arm will not snap away from it and slap some poor commuter in the face. I recently had some disgusting bloke swipe his sweaty hand right across my (thankfully closed) mouth. Even the most copious use of wet wipes to clean my poor tainted face was not enough to assuage the onslaught of my gagging.

The pits.

Unless the train is in the process of being derailed or being picked up by Godzilla, there is really no need for you to hang Simian-like from both handrails at once. Especially if you have neglected to use an effective antiperspirant.

Pickpockets.

Just keep your hands out of my bag.

Ketosis.

If you're going to go on a faddy diet like Adkins or the Cambridge Diet, or anything which eliminates carbohydrates, fat, protein, or anything resembling nutrition from your daily dietary intake, then please do not use public transport. I can smell the ketosis on your breath from the other end of the carriage and I don't appreciate it.

Smelly people.

See above. Also, please wash not only yourself but also your clothing. And dry clean your coat.

Goopy window.

It's great when you manage to bag that elusive end seat, separated from the entryway by a little plexiglass window, as you can sometimes lean on this for "comfort" (hah!) and you also get around 1cm extra space. However, when the seat's previous occupant wore a whole tub of hairgel and subsequently fell asleep leaning against said window, it's not so nice.

STALKERS.

Please do not follow me from one train to the next, unless you are validly completing the same journey as I am.

Rude pram pushers.

I will happily vacate the pram space on a busy bus so you can place your pushchair safely out of harm's way. You might not feel the need to thank me, and I won't hold this against you. However, please refrain from scowling and ramming my ankles with your pram while I attempt to move out of your way on this already overcrowded bus.

Balzac.

Why do some men feel the need to sit with their legs as wide apart as possible? Answers, please, on a postcard.

Free newspaper shoving.

I have one thanks. Yes, this is it - in my hand.