I was sitting on a tram by myself the other day, trying to blot out the monotony of the commute with my iPhone, some ear-damagingly loud music and some of those noise-cancelling earbud headphones (you know, the ones that suck right into your ears like sea anemones used to when you put your fingers on them at the beach as a kid) when the unthinkable happened; the battery died. Sure, it’d been under 10% for a while but I thought it’d at least get me home. Clearly not…

The sights and sounds of the tram started infiltrating my consciousness. There were the usuals; friends on the way home from work, a couple of students goofing around, a metalhead (there’s always one). All pretty harmless, just going about their business in the same fashion as I was, trying to get home to do something more inspiring than sitting in a tram-carriage so banged out and ragged, it’s actually legitimately jealous of Kim Kardashians’ pussy…

Then I saw him standing there; the public transport douche, his expertly tilted trilby (the worst hat in the fucking Universe, if you’re a man, don’t ever wear one, ever, ever, EVER) protecting his left ear from the rain comprehensively… From my seat near the window I could see him growing larger in the glass like an athletic paedophile in hot pursuit as the tram drew closer to the stop. I watched intently as he pulled his phone from his duffle coat, appearing to dial a number as he left the confines of the tram shelter and jaunted to the opening doors of what was quickly becoming my own personal Hell. He burst into the carriage, a cocksure cockhead, and proceeded to sit directly next to me.


I pictured him standing there in the rain, phone at the ready, eagerly awaiting the trams’ arrival so that ‘showtime’ could begin. He could’ve taken care of the conversation he then proceeded to undertake beside me, loudly, but he waited deliberately until he had an audience to bask in the glory of his conversation.


Of course he had headphones in whilst entertaining his cellular companion and was resting his iPhone on his cross-legged lap to conduct his phone chat in lieu of holding it to his ear LIKE A NORMAL PERSON. This resulted in him speaking significantly louder than was necessary, giving me no illusion as to how much of a belligerent twat he actually was.

I imagined what the person at the other end of the phone was like; it made me laugh audibly to think of another version of me sitting next to another version of this wanker on another equally shitty tram somewhere else in the world, perpetuating some sort of uninspired alternate reality where everything is equally as shitty as the initial reality…

My stop finally came and with a sigh of relief I took to my feet and headed for the door. It had truly been a harrowing 7 minutes.

As I exited the carriage swear that I heard,

“And I was like, Wayfarers are so last year…”

The door had shut before I could take the necessary action (see: Darwin).

/end communication