…since i havent left the house today. i cant afford public transport anyway.
It’s on sporting nights like this I would love to see a UKIP candidate canvassing in Sunny Stockwell. Splendid Isolationist Little England is alive and well? Um, washed out more like along with Henman.
London as the proud capital of out great nation? Well, proud capital but with a foot firmly placed at the centre of Europe as the Anglo-Portos party hard with anyone, any nationality and any team colour that wants to celebrate with them.
The media myth of Tube Strike Hell was nowhere to be seen in SW8 on the last day in June. ‘Crippled‘ (back to TIMMAH! again) proclaimed the Sub-Standard tonight. Bad taste aside from some dumbfuck circuit journos, but even a sour faced Sub-Standard hack from the Home Counties could probably walk on water in Stockwell tonight.
God help us on Sunday should our Mediterranean friends actually win the damn thing.
Such a shame that TIMMAH! won’t be troubled in the final on Centre Court this weekend. Dare you imagine the ‘celebrations’ in some suburban shithole like Surbiton if he ever manages to remove his choker curse? Tea and cucumber sandwiches, bunting on the green and all back behind the net curtains in time for Antiques Roadshow and then Songs of Pissing Praise.
Bye Bye Little England. I’m off out to hit the mean streets of Sunny Stockwell to get shit faced on Sagres (which is saying something for a teetotal tea slurper) and to find some Senhora’s to, erm, shag.
Any Porto in a Storm.
Have fun TIMMAH!
Tube strike, schmube strike is all I can say – yes, I’m on literary form today. I walked all the way from Stoke Newington to Bank and, in the words of the Godfather o’ Soul, I feel good. (I knew that I would… groan.) Again stealing from the mighty Mr Brown, if more of us would Get On The Good Foot and walk more often, I feel sure the world would be a better place – less pollution, less congestion and fitter, happier, more productive people.
No one here has yet complained about their journey from hell – mind you, they’re possibly still suffering it, the office does look somewhat empty. But on a day when London probably needs all the buses it can get, nice to see no fewer than seven “sorry, out of service” vehicles passing me on my route. “Working together for a better London”? Oh ha bloody ha.
i really love it when tourists climb those enormous lions in traffalagr square and have their photo taken pretending to ride them. before i moved here it never occured to me (i was always too busy being a teenage goth in camden to go to conventional tourist places….) but if i went on holiday and they had them there i would lap it all up as the perfect tacky tourist experience. when she visited me a few months ago, my friend helen tried her hardest to climb up there, but even with a leg up from some japanese tourists she kept slipping off. just a random thought for you there.
Dear Audi Driver,
I know you feel inadequate in your rather small penis extension, driving around listening to hard house with all the windows down. I can tell that you feel slightly embarrassed by the bright orange coverall you’re being forced to wear by your employer. You don’t need me to tell you that you could probably stand to lose a few pounds and that boucing your head up and down whilst not in time to the music doesn’t sell you to anybody.
I would have said all these things to your face after you risked my life and cut me up on a day when it would have saved you about 10 seconds on your overall journey.
I would have done, except you had to stop which let me wave at you as I drove slowly past your open window allowing me to see the beads of dirty sweat forming on your rapidly receding forehead.
So take care Mr Heart-Attack In Waiting, whilst I’m sitting here at work I’m fairly sure you’re stuck on the A40 wondering where your life went.
Call the tube strike a metaphor for your life.
Ah the good old tube strike is back eh? Jolly good. I don’t know why you need to worry about having a tube strike when they close the stations for the dumbest of reasons really. Take Monday for example, I was in London with my other half shopping for the day (my feet are still swollen today). We spent all day wandering around the Covent Garden, Oxford Street area.
Once we’d decided that we’d had enough and weren’t likely to be turned into Cattle whilst trying to board a train, we headed back to Tottenham Court road to board the train, whilst strolling back we spotted lots of Community Policing staff standing around, the other half commented “um, there seems to be a lot of the LAPD hanging around” (my other half, he’s the funny one y’see), I didn’t think much of it, bit stupid really as they were standing around outside the station. Get all the way over there and was told “stations closed”. Oh ok then. I mumbled something about thinking someone had chucked themselves in front of a train or another suspect package, but it wasn’t until about an hour later when we finally got on the tube that we found out that “defective escalators” had closed the station. ooooh, that’s a good one, so someone forgot to put 50p in the electric meter and the things had stopped working had they?
Oh how I love London, why do the stations look like they’ve come out of a third world country? Where does all the money go that people pay to use the service? It’s 2004, don’t we think that we should have stations that are a little more modern? You know, clean ones?!? Ones that run on time and don’t make us feel as though we’re being transported to some kind of slaughter house. One feels that this may be a little bit too much to ask.
Tube strike day today – HURRAH!!!!
Apologies if you are reading this on your PDA from the back of an overcrowded bus, but then again the chances are that the average reader of my blog (i.e. my mum) hasn’t even heard of a PDA let alone owns one.
Actually, no apologies at all. PDAs are for (over)Paid Dickhead Arses, except for my gf who is certainly overpaid, but the Dickhead Arses are those higher up than her on the greasy pole who failed to understand why a 9-5 Modern Girl was still messing about with pen and paper.
As for the strike itself – well the dear old Inspector Sands articulates the media lies and myths far better than I could ever hope for, and I hereby give notice that unless his wonderful dictum is not given the Leader column in the Sub-Standard by tomorrow lunchtime, then I may actually go on blog-strike.
Oh look, I’m still here…
It’s all to do with not being treated like shit, stooopid. Yes, it really is as simple as that. The crappy Carlton TV local news ran a poll earlier posing the pathetic question of:
‘Should tube drivers be allowed to strike?‘
Imagine that you were an incompetent fuckspud local TV Producer devoid of all original and meaningful ideas to engage with your target audience. A pre-requisite of the job some may say. But still, your evil empire building boss turns round and said:
‘You’re shit, ARGHHHHH!!!! – take a 50% pay cut.’
Don’t expect the onionbagblog poll to ponder the following day:
‘Should incompetent fuckspud local TV Producers devoid of all original and meaningful ideas be allowed to strike after they have been told that they are shit?‘
Even knobbers can withdraw their labour.
Tube strike days allow for me to act even smugger than usual (and that’s saying something given the fact that there is the distinct possibility that I may be able to get my photo taken with the London Senior Cup that Dulwich Hamlet brought back to SE22 last season).
Cycling into ‘work’ (OK, the daily ritual of humiliation and torture by the under tens) is a joy on tube strike days. Peddling past the endless Johnnies at the Bus Stop (remember The Lady held the view that you were a ‘failure’ if you still used busses past the age of 30 – the silly old witch) and then when you arrive, the other useless tossers (staff, not pupils) are nowhere to be seen.
It’s also a great opportunity to try and mobilise pedal power with a number of new cyclists taking to the London streets out of necessity, and then realising that two wheels are indeed the way to go.
Not too sure about the BMX Boys though who you sometimes see peddling from Brixton up to Brick Lane on their gearless gizmos. Then again if they are Brick Lane bound then it is highly likely that you will be in ownership of a PDA. In which case I don’t want you around here and so stop downloading the page (as if…).
Whatcha gonnna do? Go on bloody strike?
The tube strike has so far not directly affected my travel – today I took a Thames Link from Herne Hill to London Blackfriar’s. Tonight I will take the bus from Fleet Street to Trafalgar Square then run round to White Hall and get the connection to Brixton. It adds a little inconvenience to my normal journey as I had to pay £5 for a taxi from mine to Herne Hill Station and then the buses delay me in getting home but nothing to complain too much about.
However as my department arranges transport for associates and partners within the company this is making my stress levels rise up through the roof and making me need to get up to Camden on Saturday for a very long DE-STRESS massage. It is as though the tube strike has never existed and a car should be able to fly over traffic and arrive within at least….2 SECONDS! My poor staff are being moaned at left right and centre and I am trying to keep everyone chilled. Although having said that I do like it busy and hectic at work cause the times flies and it makes things more interesting.
I went for lunch – I say lunch but because of my odd-bod hours it’s actually at 1900 – with some friends and was surprised how quiet the traffic was in the city. It’s not dead but certainly isn’t as hectic as I thought.
We went to a great pub with an “evil” theme, there are loads of bats and vampires and everything. It’s quite funny, especially when it’s full of men in suits and they are sat at a big Gothic table and drinking from goblets.
The above building is outside by Blackfriars tube and I really like it – it reminds me of a tiny version of the NYC Flat Iron Building. In the summer this whole area is really nice for after work (or in my case mid-work) drinks – everyone sits outside and it’s a very relaxed environment. Also if you need to get back to the office ASAP you can be there in 2 seconds.
Also what I like about the city is the amount of Starbucks everywhere you go. On Fleet Street I believe there to be 3, then there is 1 at the end of Tudor Street and many many more. It makes me laugh that they have taken over the whole area – although I love it because I couldn’t live without Starbucks. They are fantastic!
If anyone had looked online and thought that certain tubes are back on I warn you a lot of it is wrong because we get hourly updates and very little is running. Last I heard was the Victoria line is fully operating… however don’t quote me
it hadn’t been for the closed-off stations, I wouldn’t have noticed the
Tube strike today. I commute by train, and apart from the fact
that Waterloo East and London Bridge were unusually busy tonight, it
didn’t seem to have made much difference. I missed this morning’s
rush hour because I had to go to Guildford, which was actually worse
than my usual journey into London (my train broke down and we were all
forced to change at Woking, which didn’t do my early-morning temper any
favours). I had been hoping for a train strike as well today, so
I could have a free day off work work from home, but never mind.
I did have to brave the horror that is the Tube yesterday morning, to
go up to Euston for a conference. I like it up there, the trees
and squares; it’s so different from Waterloo that it feels like being
in a different city for the day. The conference was at the
Friends Meeting House on Euston Road, which was a strange complex of
meeting rooms interspersed with murals and notices about
Quaker…ism(?). The conference finished early, so that people
could get home before the strike started at 6.30. So what time
did we finish? 2.30. I hope all those people with 4-hour
Tube journeys made it home OK.
I’ve been avoiding the tube chaos and pulling the working-from-home stunt. It has been great. Late-morning emails from poor sods who’ve just got to work after three-and-a-half hours of crowded bus hell. A leisurely lunch, a bit of shopping, a brief attempt at the crossword in the newspaper. And more work done than on a normal day.
But best of all has been the audio entertainment. Not the music on the stereo, but the constant parping of punchbagged car horns that I can hear from the comfort of my desk.
It started up proper at about 4.30pm so, at about 5pm I wandered off to the supermarket for supper, a chilled bottle and a good laugh at frustrated commuters.
The latter really are enlivening everyone’s day. Even the staff in Safeway’s were so gleeful about the carnage taking place on the traffic junction outside (pictured above) that they forgot to be rude to the mad old woman who was giving them an in-depth account of her grocery-buying habits.
I stopped to watch for a bit as I left. One observation: it’s the drivers who lean on the horn most that inevitably drive into the jammed box-junction as soon as they have a chance.