People can't even read a newspaper these days on London Underground. Unless they're acrobats there's no way they will manage to hold that massive piece of paper without using someone else's head as a book rest. And if they do, there's absolutely no way they are going to be able to turn the page once they've finish - so here you go, take your time as you'll be looking at the same article for a good 12 minute journey.
I'm obviously writing this on a bad day. You can imagine. I got the exact same train as I did the rest of the week and, this time, I got to Victoria just to be surprised with an agglomerate of people forming what they call a queue. Why? Because the doors to the tube were closed. So explain the phenomenon: is Thursday that particular day when everyone works in London? No one likes the rest of the week? Do companies give candies on Thursdays? No. I don't think so.
So what? Well something must have failed. Someone jumped in front of a train, a cable got broken, a train decided not to work, the driver had a big night last night... Or maybe we had more than the usual special ones that massage their Oyster cards against the thing for 3 minutes instead of the normal tap in, tap out, who knows. We'll never know.
What we will know is that we'll have a an extra loud and rude old man shouting at us on the tube - to stand on the right and walk on the left, to clear the doors, to mind the gap. And we'll also have the good old 'good afternoon' when walking in the office. And we'll also have to recharge the perfume given that it's now a mix of unknown sweat, cologne and natural odours.
So you (mainly Portuguese!) people, sitting there in the comfort of your car, with your own choice of radio, smelling like your own perfume, controlling your own temperature - please don't tell me this is the best system in the world. It's not the best system in the world. It's possibly a better system than others, at best.
And if after this you still think the London Underground is the most awesome thing one could ever experience, then come see me and I'll manage to find a room with 37 underarms on your nose, 45 degrees, 3 old and grumpy men shouting at your sad faces and a dozen newspapers rubbing your make up. Then we'll talk.
P.S. I'll also make you go down on your knees so you can feel all of the above from my height. Full package experience.