Funny but also faintly dangerous video of the week that has left us with conflicting feelings towards football fans: The title of the video is “Hartlepool fans on the London Underground dressed as penguins”. I really don’t need to give you any more information than that.Other than do not do what one foolhardy penguin does in this video. We do not condone that silly penguin’s behaviour.
As I hail from the sunny climes of Luton town, it also happens to be my commuter station. And, just sometimes, I wish it was a bit more, you know, normal. Restful shades of mud brown; just one escalator to get to the surface. They’re simple desires, but not ones that are likely to be fulfilled. And that’s why if you commute, St Pancras is less ‘breathtaking’ and more something to be endured…
It’s a Eurostar terminal, so there are endless gaggles of tourists, suitcases to trip over and romantic couples swooning on their way to Paris. When all you’ve got to look forward to is 40 minutes jammed under a predatory male’s sweaty armpit and a lasagna for one.
Similarly, St Pancras has posh shops and a champagne bar that you have to walk past to get from the tube station to the National Rail platforms, meaning you have to dash past shiny glass shop fronts full of beautiful things you will never be able to afford. And, let’s face it, you never get to St Pancras early enough to shop there.
The main concourse is ginormous, with people heading in all different directions like sheep on LSD. The result? Clashes worthy of Formula 1.
Endless Instagramming of ‘gorgeous’, ‘stunning’, etc., etc., St Pancras. As if three million people hadn’t noticed it before that – gasp – the station has a roof.
Epic strolls to the Tube worthy of the London Marathon. It’s so long you suspect that St Pancras is colluding in secret government plans to make all commuters walk halfway to their destinations before allowing them on public transport.
The pianos on the main concourse. Well, the last thing you need after a stressful day at the office is a tourist tipsy on overpriced champagne attempting to bash out Chopsticks for the twelfth time. If one of those pianos could speak, it would surely moan, “Did any of you get past grade 2 piano?”
Scientists Who Specialise in Silly Surveys about Underground Transport (to give you your full and correct name), allow us to save you time: the worst is Bank. It’s always Bank.
We can also confirm that it is, however, scientifically impossible to choose the best, as that’s like choosing between your children. (Not because you love them all equally, but because just when you’ve got one to momentarily cease poking you in the nostril the other will start shovelling dog food into its mouth with both pudgy little hands. You know?)
Luckily, dear readers, we here at London Locomotion are nothing if not dedicated. So we decided to bring you an alternative. We present to you The Hot Line.