So, youve been doing the commute for some time now and youve got your journey down to a fine art. If by fine art you mean limiting the awfulness to somewhat manageable levels. Youve got a route, a system, established shortcuts and codes of conduct. Youve got your favourite spot on the train, your preferred exit strategy and your walking speed is up to new and almost inhuman levels. You have efficient methods of carrying out every single stage of the operation. Your pièce de résistance is a technique for the ticket barriers where you insert and then collect your season ticket almost instantaneously. You approach the barrier, ready to breeze through it as if it werent even there when what should happen? A dawdler bumbles in front of you. Oh and whats this? They dont even know where their ticket is. F*ck you, dawdler.
Created in a petri dish in an underground lab, I was originally designed by scientists to carry out high-profile assassinations for the CIA. Unfortunately, something went wrong and my only skill was writing list-based articles. So now I do that instead.
