You Are My Hero and I Love You

So I'm on the tube this morning, jammed in the corner like a question mark and following the sensory deprivation protocol. It's getting pretty packed, but it's Friday so it's no big deal.

At some point in the journey, the world's most beautiful woman disembarks the train and is replaced by two bickering middle-aged american men. Now, this is by no means a fair swap, but these guys are definitely delivering the goods in the comedy-value stakes. Evidently, one of these two choppers, Chopper 1, utilised the tried and tested London technique of forcing himself on to the carriage before anybody else could get off, and is now being sternly rebuked for his lack of manners by Chopper 2.

I pop my 'phones out of my ears, happy for the entertainment. Ah, the follies of man. I have next to no patience for Chopper 1's tube-boarding style, but there will be no taking sides here: both of these gentlemen are fucking unreconstructed idiots, pure and simple. Big fat jowly children, all gold Rolexes and self-importance, subjecting the captive audience of commuters to their petty gripes like it's the most important thing in the world. If they all of a sudden killed each other, right here between Angel and Old Street, I swear I wouldn't bat an eyelid. I'd just crank the volume back up and turn the page over to the cinema reviews.

Anyway, Chopper 2 won't let it lie. It appears he fixing to talk aloud to himself about Chopper 1's rudeness for the entire journey. Fair enough - it's smiles all round as far as I'm concerned. But wait, what's this? A third voice floats out of the amassed throng: "Don't worry about him, some prats never listen".

What the fuck? Who's this fucking guy? Why would somebody suddenly decide to weigh in with their two cents right here? Why get involved, for fuck's sake? And why say "prats"? Chopper 2 is happy for the support - "The public speaks!", he says - but I feel my Friday morning upside-down-frown reverting to type. Chopper 3 is a cunt, and he is ruining my buzz.

At some fucking station somewhere, Chopper 1 departs. He makes a big scene about being all super-polite, and the drama unfolds like this:

Chopper 1: Oh, excuse me. Sorry. Excuse me.
Chopper 2: Yeah.
Chopper 1: Have a nice day.
Chopper 2: I'm missing you already.

This last line gets a few laughs, but that's not enough for Chopper 3. Oh no.

He sidles up close to Chopper 2. "Brilliant", he says. Also, "Fantastic". And then: "Best put-down ever". He's right up on the guy now, gazing adoringly, like he wants nothing more than to drop to his knees and gargle with the dude's dried-up old balls.

Chopper 2 slowly inches away. Not for the first time, I'm thinking that maybe Sarin gas isn't such a bad idea after all.