Jumper - an OT post by DiT, aged 28 and three quarters.
Sometimes it seems that I could fill a book with all of the downright idiotic things that I experience on the Tube. If it wasn’t bad enough that I have to spend an hour and a half of each day pressed in to intimate contact with London’s Dark Underbelly, I must also witness the kind of relentless twattery that would make Darwin himself slap the Health and Safety Inspectorate with ‘Origin of the Species’ and yell “Survial of the fittest! Survial! Of! The! Fittest!”

I guess what I’m trying to say is that the London Transport network is a shining example of why natural selection should be positively encouraged when it comes to some elements of the Human Race. But the real bastards, the ones who actually make my blood boil, are the Jumpers. This particular genus of the human species is identified thusly:

1) He (it is most certainly a he) has a ridiculous, floppy haircut, and his name is Rufus Smythe Smythe Smythe Smythe Ponsunbury Featherstone Green.
2) Even though he is has a cut glass English accent, he will claim, at every given opportunity, to be Scottish, giving him the unenviable achievement of being hated by both the Scots and the English all at the same time.
3) He works in ‘The Cidee’. Not London, not even the City.
4) He is an employee of one of the big four banks.
5) He wears a pin stripe suit, and a red power tie. He very likely supports UKIP, but actually votes Conservative because Daddy has for the last 50 years.

But I should come to my point. The Jumper will, when hearing the warning beeps of a Tube door about to close, leap with all of the grace and poise of a Salmon through the snapping jaws of the bear that are the Tube doors. He will push and shove and hold the doors open until he emerges victorious from this most primal of battles. In doing so, he will save himself one minute, and cause yet another group of people to hate him.

But this very morning, my friends, I saw something that made my heart soar. I was descending the steps towards the Northern Line at Bank station when I heard, in the distance, the beeping that signalled I had missed a train. Suddenly, from behind me, a Jumper sprang forth, his floppy hair resplendent in the Tube wind.

“You’ll never make it.” I thought, and watched as he sped away.

As I emerged on to the platform, a wondrous sight beheld my eyes. The Jumper had made it as far as the last door of the train, yet his angle of approach must have been off, as he had not made the leap. Instead, he had thrust forward his laptop bag at the exact moment the doors closed – and it had stuck. He was pulling and straining, yanking and swearing, and yet still the bag would not come free. For some reason, the doors would not open again, and still he heaved. He actually put one foot against the train and gave an almighty wrench, which was accompanied by a terrible ripping noise. A forest of paperwork tumbled from the bag, spilling down the side of the train and on the the tracks below. The driver, with a suitable sense of timing and how these things should be done, opened the doors. Rufus, or whatever his name was, stared dejectedly as the doors closed again, and took a step backwards as the train whipped up wind, paperwork and his hair, and I swear I saw tears forming in the corners of his perfectly moisturised face.

It’s not often you see justice done so comprehensively. What was the last thing you saw that made you think that justice had been fully and righteously served?

Oh, and check out my sig...
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Thu 26 Feb 2009, 11:45, 8 replies, latest was 16 years ago)

I would have loved to have been there to see that

( Labia Majora You keep on talking but it makes no sense at all, Thu 26 Feb 2009, 11:49, Reply)

Fabulous

(oneinthepink is at your cervix m'lady, Thu 26 Feb 2009, 11:56, Reply)

Marvellous story
Although I can'y deny that I was expecting some kind of teleporting story with a pube-headed yank twat.
( whenanimalsattackhumans clad in global hypercolour, Thu 26 Feb 2009, 12:01, Reply)

Beautiful!
That's made my morning, that has.
(LongJohnBaldry, Thu 26 Feb 2009, 12:17, Reply)

Beautiful
I love this.

My life is forever blighted by braying Ruperts on the tube. I was jammed into a tiny space on the train at Westminster when some cock got on and started to shove everyone to make room for his over-inflated ego.

I lost my temper and said "Stop pushing you moron". I received a few smiles that day.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Thu 26 Feb 2009, 12:21, Reply)

Wonderful!
It's a shame he didn't stick his head in the door instead of his case though.
( girlinthehole, Thu 26 Feb 2009, 12:38, Reply)

fantastic, wish i had seen that!!
but anyway...
just last week i spotted a couple of feds apprehending 3 chavs round the corner from the house i've been renovating over the last 2 years.
one of the chavs just wouldn't stand still when required to do so by the VERY BURLY fed, who then picked up said chav, arms pinned to his sides and pushed him irresistable-force-style into a wall. just enough force to shock the chav into silence as he realised his feet were 2 feet off the ground, but not so much as would give it grounds for complaints of police brutality. i guess what clinched it was the fed shouting "stand the fuck still!" right in the chav's face whilst the chav hovered off the ground.
quality policing.
( blaireau69 , the Cumbrian Travis Bickle., Thu 26 Feb 2009, 13:10, Reply)

Fantastic!
Mr. DiT, I miss these kind of stories from you!

When I was on the tube at the weekend I saw a kid get it's head shut in the tube door.
I laughed, but felt bad.
( Cawl, Thu 26 Feb 2009, 17:57, Reply)