Dear Fat Woman in Front of Me on the Stairs,
I’d like to start by complimenting you, in saying that you’re by far not the fattest person I’ve ever seen on the tube. That’s certainly not to say I would, but I’ve seen some people that, had you seen them above ground, you’d find yourself wondering if they would be allowed on the tube or if maybe they’d just plug it up. But then these fatties were generally just sitting down, taking up four seats and I generally don’t mind having to stand on the tube whereas you’ve practically doubled my journey time today. Granted, that wasn’t helped by me leaving work 20 minutes late, waiting 20 more minutes for a tube with some room on it for my slightly large frame, giving up, walking 15 minutes to the next station, waiting another 10 minutes then squeezing onto an already full train just to get the fuck home, but at this stage of the journey all those parts are complete and all that’s left of this journey is to get to the top of these stairs and get the fuck home so I can waste the evening doing nothing and do all this shit again in the morning.
Let’s consider my reasons for trying to get out of here as quickly as possible. Firstly, I edged/pushed my way in front of a man on the platform to get here and I’m fairly sure the old bastard is stood right behind me now cursing my youthfulness and lack of manners. I, of course, have my headphones in which means not only can I not tell if that’s what he’s saying, but also that even if it is, he’s wrong because I can’t hear him and therefore can’t defend myself. Secondly, theres the fact that it’s the summer, and with those flying bastards we call bees and those fucking bastards we call new Big Brother contestants, the summer brings the hot girls. We all know the science behind it; as temperatures drop in autumn many female humans develop a thick semitransparent fur which not only shields them from the harsh winter cold but also acts as camouflage, blurring their appearance as if they were stood behind frosted glass to the point where they can generally go about their day to day life unnoticed, safe from the prying eyes of the male. Thankfully when the summer comes around they shed this fur and wear dresses and shit which makes them a thousand times hotter. I could be staring at them right now up on the surface, but instead I’m forced to watch your elephantine arse sway from side to side as you waddle up these fucking stairs.
It was a tough decision to take this staircase, one which I did not take lightly. I assessed my options: there are two staircases here, and each is wide enough for two people. Thats four possible paths to take. Now, this isn’t like me deciding which traffic lights to cross at, there are significantly fewer factors at work here, it has to be a quick evaluation then a snap commitment otherwise I’ll hold up the people behind me and probably get a whack from the old geezer. If he’s got up yet, I’m not sure if I knocked him over (not my fault – headphones, remember?). My decision making process went along the following lines:
Staircase 1, left side – Old lady walking slowly
Staircase 1, right side – no blockages except a lot of people avoiding the old lady
Staircase 2, left side – morons with suitcase (AT FUCKING RUSH HOUR?)
Staircase 2, right side – people coming down (this is acceptable)
Clearly the choice was to go with staircase 1, as we both elected to. I made sure my head was clear and prepared myself for the iminent merge of people flows as everyone else avoided the old lady, I dont mind people nipping in front of me when they’re only going to move back out of the way when they get in front of the old bird. I’m considerate like that. Somehow this didn’t quite go to plan though did it. For some reason, once you’d got past the old biddy, you decided it was your rightful place right in the fucking middle of this staircase. At such a pace that even the old dear looks like she wants to watch you get eaten by bears. She’s not the only one, since you stepped in front of me I’ve actually been trying to evolve bears from the gunk underneath my fingernails. By the time you’d made it up 5 steps I’d almost managed to breed a couple of angry fish with lungs instead of gills, but then I tripped over the incredibly long beard I’ve grown and dropped them. At least one good thing seems to have come of this, and that’s that I now know I can grow a full beard. I find myself wondering what life is like above ground these days. Maybe North Korea bombed the shit out of the whole planet and we’ll get up there to find that radioactive dinosaurs roam London, or maybe it will be more like the Jetsons.
A few days ago I was on some stairs that were being blocked by someone else. This, however, was a very young girl who had clearly only just learned how stairs work and was taking one step at a time, making sure both feet were solidly on each step before progressing to the next. Did this make me mad? No. It was actually quite cute. Maybe it was because I’d been drinking but I actually didn’t even consider hoofing her down the stairs just to get down a bit quicker. What I’m trying to get across here is that I don’t hate all slow stairs users. Just you (this is a lie to get my point across, I actually would quite happily slaughter anyone that moves slower than me with a rusty chainsaw) (As long as I had earphones, because the rust would probably squeal like nails on a chalkboard) (If I didn’t have any earphones, I’d be happy to use a fresh chainsaw). You’re like that guy with the big 4×4 who parks across two disabled spaces and then when anyone looks at you like a cunt you shrug and you’re all like “what? disabled? Oh, I didn’t know, I can’t see the sign from up here. Oh, two spaces, yes well it is a big car and after all, I’m in a hurry. What about that actual disabled person behind me looking for a space? Well no I’m not going to move it now, I’m only going to be 5 minutes (HOURS-CUNT). What’s that, ran over someone in a wheelchair? Well, they should have run out of the way.”
If there’s one thing you should take away from this encounter, it’s that I hate you and I wish you were dead, because then I could step over your body and actually get up these bastard stairs. If you want to take something else, maybe learn that when there are 2 rows of people, then you decide that you need both those rows EVEN THOUGH YOU’RE NOT MORBIDLY OBESE, you might piss off a few people. Or maybe just one. But one with the fury of a thousand rabid wolves. Hows about you go and eat a few bucket meals, get yourself so fat that even thinking makes you sweaty and then maybe you’ll be wide enough that I’ll change the tone of my letter to rip into you for being a fucking fat bitch rather than just a fucking stupid one you oblivious retarded cunt.
Lots of love
Chris
