Have you seen the video doing the rounds online? I’ll paint a quick picture: there’s a tube train. It’s in motion. And on a seat – surrounded by other passengers! – a woman is balancing a plate of what looks like rice on her lap.
She’s eating it. With her fingers. At this point, when I first watched, my fingers started twitching with the urge to throw my phone at a wall. Or with the urge to scrub them, hard.
The oddest thing is that her fellow passengers look entirely unbothered by the whole thing. The man sitting next to her doesn’t even look up from his phone.
This is an extreme example, sure, but it highlights a terrible issue: the scourge of Tube eaters.
Why do Tube eaters insist on offending? Ravenous, insatiable hunger? Boredom? A perverse desire to annoy their fellow passengers? Who knows, but I know one thing: it’s an unsanitary hobby.
Descending into the Tube always feels rather like entering the eighth circle of hell. It’s dark. It’s grotty. The people you’re jostling with on the daily commute are prone to giving you dark looks as you slug it out for a space before the doors close.
Above all, though, it’s dirty
Above all, though, it’s dirty. There’s a reason people tell you to wash your hands after a trip: this place is filled with the soot that comes off the tube tracks, tiny particles of dust and metal, the general staleness of air that’s probably been circulating since the 1940s.
Studies have shown that the Tube is the most polluted place in London – so why are people happy to add food to the mix?
There are no acceptable levels of Tube snacks (or indeed, the rarer, lesser-spotted Tube Dinner). Bottled water, yes. Takeaway coffee, just about. But my line is drawn there, and I’m advancing no further.
Put away the tupperware, or indeed anything that might cause you to leave nasty food residue on the surfaces we all use. Crisps on the tube? Yes, you can’t hear the crunch, but the person that’s dipping their greasy fingers in the bag in search of potato chip goodness will be putting those greasy, spittle-covered fingers on the handrails at some point. Or the escalators, or the seats.
Maybe it’s a hangover from Covid, but I have enough germs to be dealing with already without adding your personal cocktail of micro bacteria to the mix.
Also, it’s just impolite: a cardinal sin in British society. The Tube is a dirty enough place without any pesky snackers. Next time, leave your dinner at home: if not for yourself, then at least for the people who have the misfortune of travelling with you.
Vicky Jessop is a culture and lifestyle writer
