Michele Hanson exercises her right to rage!
My friend Theresa was out on a jam-packed bus the other day, standing swaying about with the other pensioners and longing for a seat, but the only empty space was blocked by the lady sitting next to it. No-one dared to say "Move up!" Isn't that odd?
At last a large cheery lady on Theresa's bus spotted the empty seat and spoke, "Move yer bum!" said she, in a robust way. They had a tremendous row. Vile racist abuse was used by the seat-blocking lady. No-one else said anything. Not even Theresa. She was deeply ashamed of herself afterwards. Passengers did a few weedy sympathetic smiles at the standing lady, or hid behind their papers. We usually do. I find that when you are out and about on public transport, chances are you'll come across someone behaving everso badly, and everyone else taking no notice.
So if you want to do something frightful, do it on public transport. Behave atrociously at home and no-one will put up with it for a minute. The family and residents will start moaning and complaining and issuing ultimatums or throwing you out, but once you're out on the tubes and buses, no-one gives a fig. You're free as the wind. You can scream and scream into your mobile, throw your chips on the floor, fight, swear, flash, abuse anyone you please, smoke till you choke, be sick, have sex, punch someone on the head (I know because I did it once) or block the only empty seat on the bus, and no-one will bat an eyelid. My friend Hazel once took her pet parrot on the train. It perched on the luggage rack and squawked away: "Hallo, hallo!" How's your father? Where's me dinner?" Now and then it pooed on someone's head. Everyone pretended not to notice.
Who can blame us? Who wants to get into rows or fights or delays when one has had a tough day at the office and is racing home to let the dog out? And nowadays interfering can be dangerous. You could easily get stabbed or arrested by poking your nose into someone else's business.
But I have a dream. One day I'll be travelling along and passenger solidarity will break out. That is the key to success. Everyone must jump up and give the miscreant a roasting. And if they still won't behave, we will get out our squirty guns and spray them with gloop, freezing them in the middle of misbehaviour for everyone to see. A sort of public shame punishment.
Last week my dream almost came true, but not on a train. I was in the park with my friend, walking our dogs, when three large and sullen boys sloped in, two hooded, one with a moon-face, dragging a monster stuffed tody. They poked a hole in the fabric, planning to release a tsunami of polystyrene stuffing all over the park. They wouldn't dare do it at home with their Mums' watching, but out here in public, why it's anything goes as usual. In our park one can often see boys and girls at play, burning benches, drug dealing, whizzing round the lawns on stolen motor-bikes, and releasing stuffing. Now there we were, two grown ups with or big dogs. Could we just stand by and watch the vandalism again? No. Enough is enough.
I marched up to these boys, questioned them and received a cocky answer. What is more enraging that insolent, slouching, sneering boys? And by now my friend had joined me, also enraged. And when one is in a boiling rade, caution tends to go out the window. So I had a shout, confiscated the monster toy, and dragged it to my car, but it wouldn't fit in. It was too huge. Bigger than a person.
So we ran for the keeper, just across the road. Luckily he too was in a vile mood - that made three of us in a temper, and the Keeper had tattooes and a shaved head. Together we ran after the little toads, shouting rather coarsely. And we caught one. Unfortunately, the most innocuous one, but Keeper marched him away, tracked down his reprobate friends and heaven knows what he did or said, but we haven't seen them since. Success. Even without the squirty guns.
But it has thrown us into a bit of a dilemma. We don't want to turn into vigilantes, stamping around brimming with transport and park rage. Do we?
