Sunday, March 16, 2008

The sound of death

I have a fear. Not a full-blown phobia. Not yet. Just a heart-pounding, cold sweat, ohmygodimgoingtodie type uber-niggle.

What provokes this undesirable reaction?

I feel my answer should be accompanied with the sound itself, or at the very least a Jaws theme-tune style warning, a pantomime villain hissing and a general trembling of fear from all around.

Sound familiar?

Yes, I'm talking about that beast of all beasts: the Oxford Tube. In principle this is a great idea. It's a big coach that travels between London and Oxford with all mod cons: wifi, breakfast on board, cheery drivers who make jokes about the weather and the cruising altitude. But like all great ideas, it has become all people who seem just a little too cheerful on the outside, these drivers are surely psychopathic warriors with a deep-rooted desire for violent revenge on every cyclist and pedestrian around.

It starts with the roar. A thousand lions, motorbikes with loose exhausts and Formula 1 cars...combined with a sprinkling of atomic bomb and Bonfire Night, and you're nearly there. That's the first sign, but it's too late by then. The best reaction is to shut your eyes and leap for cover. If you're on a bike, pray that your left side has always been more flattering, as you'll shortly lose your right. These monsters go sooo incredibly fast, and they're just so big. Words fail me.

Well, only for a bit. I still have enough scribble diarrhoea to rant about these things. In my quest for solidarity I found a couple of groups sympathising with me:
and the amazingly titled:
How I Nearly Died on the Oxford Tube which just shows that you're not even safe inside. It seems that being locked in the luggage section is not unusual.

Be afraid.

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