Bend Over Jessica

I very rarely think spanking thoughts on the train about other people travelling with me. I’m normally sending texts or reading or writing ‘to do’ lists.

But honestly, if there was ever a pair of ‘men’ (I use the word in inverted commas because their behaviour was like that of five year old, but with more swearing*) that were aching for a jolly good beating, it was the pair on South West Trains last week, at 6.15am in the morning.

One had a bike, the other did not. The one with a bike got on at the same stop as me. As it was very early, the train was only a third full; there were loads of empty seats. But the man with a bike, who was a typical lycra lout cycling thug, puffed up with his own importance about saving the planet, wanted to put his bike in the area designated for bikes, which has a polite sign on it saying ‘please make way for cycles’. Unfortunately, another commuter was already sitting there. In the way of his bike.

Instead of asking politely if the chap would move, so he could rest his bike – there being lots of other seats – the lycra lout loudly and aggressively ordered the man to move, startling all of the commuters in earshot (including me) from their coffee and papers. The other man, in a typical male posturing way, refused to move, perhaps fearing that his penis might never rise again if he gave way – although I have to say that if someone had spoken to me like that, I might have refused to move on principal as well. But he was in a bike space.

Anyway….

This argument went on for a good five minutes, got louder and louder, the swear words started flying** and it looked like there was going to be a fight.

Until Miss Davies – that’s my grown up self – intervened.

Standing up, I politely asked the cycling thug to calm down and stop swearing and being abusive and then asked the commuter in the bike space if he would mind moving to another seat. I was sure, I said, that the commuter would have happily moved in the first place if he’d been spoken to more politely. The bemused commuter nodded.

Then, I suggest, icily calm and polite, when they’d stopped being so silly, perhaps all the other travellers could enjoy their journey to work and peace and quiet. Couldn’t they see they were upsetting the elderly lady sitting there?

The commuter, clutching his coffee like a shield, sidled past me to another seat. The cyclist flounced his bike into the space and then flounced to another seat.

“Thank you so much gentlemen” I said, ultra politely, and sat down.

Peace reigned.

How I longed for a cane at that point. Perhaps a quick six of the best each would have taught them about behaving in public!

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*Although these days, most five year olds swear worse than I do.
**Hearing the ‘C’ word used at 6.20am on a commuter train is not a good thing.
***Actually she wasn’t that old. Whoops. She probably wanted to get up and punch me in the mouth.