Nah. Me neither. There is little worse than a drunk on the Tube. Best case scenario – boozy wibbling. Worst case scenario – vom. I, dear reader, have been guilty of both, and I apologise unreservedly to anyone that has had to witness my excesses over the years.
Yes, OK, there is a valid point to be made that the only way to make make the Circle Line bearable is being several pints in the bag. Yes, OK, there is an element of nanny statism about the pronouncement, and it’s rushed implimentation was almost guaranteed to bring on the pitiful scenes we saw over the weekend.
But let’s be honest. Didn’t you think that every single person that partook in that ride was a bit of a wanker? “Oh, boohoo, I can no longer drink on the Uxbridge branch of the District Line.” So flippin’ what? It’s not like there aren’t enough pubs/bars/restaurants/parks/gardens/street corners in town where you can quite legally wrap your face around a cold one. Why would anyone want to drink on the tube? What possible attraction can there be to swilling an alcopop on the Northern Line?
Let us not also forget that Facebook parties tend to be arsehole magnets, and boy did this one ever bring the twunts out of their twuntholes. Take a look at this gallery of gits, and bask warmly in the fact that the instigator of the whole thing is that most hated of lowlives – a city banker. Snuggle down cosily in the reports that he is now fearing for his job. Nuzzle enthusiastically in the fact that he started the whole thing as an anti-Boris protest, and has ended up vindicating the blond buffoons’ argument.
Oh, look, I know this makes me sound like an old fart of the highest ordure, but come on.
To my mind, anyone that drinks on the tube is a bit of a saddo and a loser, and I’m frankly surprised that there wasn’t legislation already in place.
If the best you can do for a Saturday night out is get drunk on the Circle Line, then frankly your social life is a bit lacking, don’t you think?