breakfast of champions

Newsflash. I didn't go to the gym this morning.
I did, however, get up at my normal time – 6am – and so had the chance to catch up on breakfast TV. my inner child loved it – so nice to be talked to about grown-up things like gambling addiction and diets but in words that any pre-teen can understand, and in a tone fit for reading fairy stories (and now for a piece about animal abuse, which really is terrible). is that what they mean by the nanny state? no wonder we are so depressed as a nation if that is what we get by way of morning intellectual stimulation.
i then got the tube. what a difference a couple of hours makes to the class and quantity of traveller. it was heaving with people who'd left their manners/consideration for others/common sense at home. if you've ever wondered what an elephant would look like trying to squeeze itself into a phone box (some joke, surely), take a look at the people on the northern line trying to fit onto already packed train carriages. weird.
then of course there's the hair and beauty sessions you get treated to once you've managed to crush all your internal organs together so you can fit in the 3sq inches allowed to you by your fellow travellers. while i think it's admirable that people can actually apply eyeshadow, mascara and (most impressive of all) eyeliner while they are basically sitting in a metallic canister on wheels being dragged along thin rails by someone who may or may not be awake/alive/qualified to drive, surely there's a time and a place for putting your face on and the Charing X branch may not be it?
I wonder what would happen if I got out an electric shaver and started giving myself a quick once-over. Maybe tomorrow I'll try and give myself a pedicure while travelling from Kentish Town to Charing X – well, you've got to use your downtime wisely.