Today is the first of a new series of weekly rants that i will be publishing. That’s right biatches; once a week i’ll be taking out some slight frustration on a topic that is making my blood boil.

This week’s topic is the London commute which i have renamed ‘The Zombie Commute’ for obvious reasons. Enjoy!

Oh the sweet and joyful commute to the office. The 50-minute journey of silence, and the stench of body oder is enough to drain all enthusiasm I had when crawling out of the shower, and overshadows any stimulating Gordon Brown lazy eye headline I may have decided to set my eyes on reading.

Maybe it’s the over population of the Crackberry that has these sheep staring so hard at their palms that you’d think they had Cheryl Cole naked between their legs.

However, the issue that beckons is the fact that day in day out, the journey is consistently silent… I mean I’m not looking for a six-train pile up of carnage and horror at London Bridge. The look on these Duncan Bannatyne wannabe’s is enough to scare off any Bin Laden look-a-like with his gym bag of C4.

My quarrel is worse than a bad day in Bosnia. It’s staring at our pathetic attempt of claiming to be a multi-cultural state, because the fact is that we are so paranoid of everyone around us that we need to cocoon ourselves in a ball of latest gadgets and black and white paper hoping that we don’t catch eye contact with someone who may actually appear to say ‘Good Morning’ as they travel to their destination!

I haven’t had the joy of travelling the world in a quest to find morning banter on the commute but I’m sure if I was hiking to the office in the Caribbean, I may be partial to a “Wots’ good mon”, followed by a musical duet with a local traveller who has the ability to brighten up their own life without the need of a qwerty keyboard or white earphones and fruit logos.

If not I may get some funny looks for wearing winkle pickers in 100 degrees of heat!

It’s a shame we have to be so dramatic and fearful of the people around us, with the thoughts that every Middle Eastern individual could be ready to explode not only killing me and the unfortunate Morgan Stanley chap beside me, but more importantly making me miss work and ruining my fake Hugo Boss suit…not to mention now I’m going to miss tonight’s Dragons Den.

Fortunately, I also own a Crackberry and I can spend the 50-minute commute polishing my ego chatting with my virtual reality Twitter friends… and not with you Zombies!

Thanks London.

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