Jun. 9th, 2008

madwitch: (Default)
Those of us who have ever owned any kind of portable personal stereo device will know the dangers. Singing along louder than you realise, and always out of tune, getting carried away and dancing while you're waiting for the bus, missing your stop because you've gone into music trance, this kind of thing. I'm sure we've all done one of those things at least once.

But I doubt many of us have gone quite as far as the man I saw this morning.

Let's set the scene here. It's 7.35am, and I'm half asleep and wandering onto the Jubilee line platform, deciding to wait for the second tube to come as there are lots of people and I hate the tube anyway. I spot a man doing what appears to be the "I have an itch on my arse or upper thigh, but I don't want to scratch in a public place" jig. This continues, and it slowly dawns on me that he's dancing. Not the little twirls or yellow-brick-road skips that most of us do when in personal stereo heaven, no. This guy is working up to the full-on R&B club dancefloor grind, and I watch in mildly horrified and very amused fascination as the gyrating builds. From just an awkward leg twitch, he's now thrusting himself around the tube platform. Everyone except me is being Very British and ignoring him, I'm unable to look away.

The tube approaches, and people shuffle nearer to the doors. Gyrating man moves to the side of the group by one door, still thrusting and grinding, so lost in it all that his tounge is now involved. He's licking his lips, thrusting his tongue into thin air, licking his lips again...

By this point, I have dissolved into quiet hysterics and am hiding beind my Metro.
The tube arrives. Our dancer comes out of his reverie and leaps on board, where people are still VERY BRITISH but are nonchalantly not being too close. After all, what if he starts again and dry humps your leg? What is the British commuter to do then?*
I stay on the platform, controlled demeanour returning, and watch as he leans against the side of the tube, legs twitching and grooving...

So be warned. You never know what those I-Pods will make you do.

*If you are Miriam Margolyes, apparently what you do in such situations is make loud comments about Frotteurism until they die of embarrassment.

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