Tuesday, March 07, 2006


Yesterday's RITUAL LANDSCAPE post reminded me of something I once hacked out on here (( ah, but no - that'd be hacked out on another URL, which has now vanished with all that other old shit about goth girls )) about reading other peoples' newspapers on the tube or train.

If you asked me to make a list of people I'd gladly like to see thrown into the fetid stench-bog of Camden Lock, then "PEOPLE WHO GET ARSEY ABOUT OTHERS READING THEIR NEWSPAPERS" would be up there, alongside "people who wear shorts and sandals" and "people in council flats who buy pianos". What is their fucking problem, the lot of them?

Anyway, you have to try this one out, it really does work when you're sitting opposite someone and you're reading their front and back pages. When they start to tilt their papers, just keep staring, at exactly the same spot, even if you can't read a word. Don't avert your eyes.

You'll notice that the sad bastards go through a series of moves, desperately trying to shake your gaze, twisting and scrunching the paper up until they can barely read it themselves. Just keep staring at that paper. You're bugging them more than you realise, it really gnaws away at their souls. If one of them challenges you (which rarely happens), take a while to respond, and when you do, tell them you're half-blind. They'll feel like a pathetic, pedantic cunt - which, in all truth, they are - but they'll be forced to acknowledge the fact in front of a carriage of passengers.


I used to know this girl who'd stand directly in front of seated male commuters, her arse hovering above their papers, and then suddenly shriek, 'YOU FUCKING PERVERT!' and spin round. These poor men used to die a thousand deaths. Though I must stress, this behaviour is extremely immature and could lead to serious consequences, and in retrospect I can't endorse it in any shape or form.

Same girl had worked in a newsagent when she was 17. "You can tell the ones who've come in to buy porn", she once confided to me. "They always go for Radio Timesand spend 5 minutes flicking through it, til the shop's empty. Nobody ever, ever genuinely browses Radio Times.

"I used to stall them at the counter until some other customers had come in, then wave their jazz mags round, shouting THAT'LL BE £2.99".
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