If the tube lines were people…
If the tube lines were people, I imagine they’d be a bit like this.
A zimmer-framed cranky old Nana who whinges every time she has to do anything. Her joints hurt in the winter and when she is out shopping, she pauses for a little sit down on all the low-rise walls outside the high-rise flats to watch the world go by with a disapproving glance. She mourns the state of her neighbourhood and that no-one knows each other’s names. Says the phrase ‘it weren’t like this in my day’ quite a lot.
A twentysomething graduate. She’s slow to start and a bit bewildered and unstable. She feels like she’s just going round and round, not really making any sense of her life. Finds making big decisions really hard and panics daily when looking at everyone else who seems to know what they’re doing and are moving forward with their life. Hates her mundane job, spends most of her day on Buzzfeed doing quizzes/reading their lists about things from the 90s and can only dine out on vouchers but on the flip side, has the best friends in the world. She can’t wait to feel like her life has finally started.
Hammersmith and City Line
A prick in a pub who drinks double jack and coke, cheats on his wife and whose shirt slightly strains at the stomach. Once paid £420 for a ropey blowjob in a brothel after a night with the lads. He’s pretty proud of it tbf. Works in middle management and cried at the office Christmas do last year when he saw the two fit girls from payroll cackling at his rendition of ‘Angels’ on the karaoke machine. Has a Chinese symbol tattooed on one bicep and a Celtic band around the other.
Waterloo and City Line
A toddler. No wait, it’s not even that, it’s a sperm. A mere twinkle in the winking eye of TFL. (Look closely. The eyes have it)
A learned Oxbridge chap who remains an elusive bachelor in high-waisted trousers. Loves vintage fairs yet hates sequins and anything too flamboyant. Hitches his tweed trousers (pressed) up before he sits down. Is oddly fascinated by East London and all the filth it promises but worries he’ll never quite fit in. A boff. Ravenclaw.
An overgrown, braying public schoolboy in banking. Uses a heady blend of Californian surfer and Cockney rhyming slang ‘ironically’ (“Bro! Take a ‘butchers’ at this!”) even though he’s never been near the real East End and when he was in LA all he did was go to all the places featured on ‘The Hills’. Secretly, he thought the Henley Regatta was better than the whole of LA. At 5.30 on a Friday he pops his collar up, orders a round of ‘bucas for ‘the boys on 4th’ and wakes up the next morning, peeling his clammy arm off of Crystal, the PA to the Directors on 6th. Really, really loves red trousers.
A dolly bird, who has ‘come up London for a day wiv the gells’. Wears four layers of fake tan and those double layered false lashes so that when she grins, she looks like a shiny orange camel and at the bottom of her hi-shine plastic nails there’s a few millimetres where they’ve grown out. Finds utter glee in wearing matching personalised t-shirts with ‘naughty nicknames’ on them – last time on Jade’s hen she was ‘Little Miss PornStar ‘. #lol!!!!!!!!!!!! Saves peoples names in her phone like this: ~x~️ My HuNnY BoO ️~x~
A groovy, beardy, leftie, Guardian reading graduate with a lovely job in Digital Media and an accent that makes girls knees shake. Dreams of barge holidays and going to Alex James’ farm for a cheese festival. Voted Lib Dem last time and hates himself for it. Has recently set up a micro brewery in his airing cupboard and grows hops in his small patch of garden in Highgate.
A foreheady Dad with a Volvo and two kids. Whilst he battles the ever growing bags under his eyes on the daily schlep to the City, the good lady wife does her shopping in Waitrose and then loads it into a 4×4 she only uses for the school run. Wishes that he had more energy to be cooler- debated going to Glasto in a yurt this year and taking the kids; instead opted for two weeks all inclusive in Tenerife.
Hipster. Debating whether their beard is cool or not anymore whilst sighing over the latest poem they’re tapping out on their vintage typewriter which they’ve carted to their local elusive, ‘I don’t give a shit’ coffee shop which throws in a free sardonic look with every flat white you buy. Only looks up when their vintage portable record player that they’re listening to with Beats headphones (What? They were an Xmas present okay?) skips.
Universally loved by all. Popular, good looking, funny and successful, this line all other lines fancy and want to be. This is the Will Smith/Michelle Obama of tube lines.
A clicky, gabbly snap-happy tourist gazing in wonder at London through the eyes of their shiny new Nikon. Thinks Jamie’s Italian is the same as Gauchos and that an Aberdeen Steak House is the finest in quality traditional British dining. Particularly loves Leicester Square, which everyone else knows is where souls and good taste come to die in amongst dancing life-sized M&Ms and overpriced flat pints in chain pubs.
A five year old smacked off their tits on candyfloss and toffee apples at the funfair BECAUSE WAH OMG LIFE IS SO AMAZING!!!!
Illustrations by Alexandra Bucktin
A bit about Alex
Alexandra is a London based graphic designer, snow lover and cake addict. Amongst many other brilliant freelance projects she was responsible for the rebranding of bloodyhellbrennan.com back in October. To find out more about her and her work, visit her website here.