Some Londoners eat on the go, because it’s the only way they can live. They are hustling between jobs or dashing to the next meeting, and there simply isn’t time to sit-down for a leisurely lunch.
And when I say “on the go”, I mean on the Tube. Because that’s how many of us get around.
London is a vibrant and fast-paced capital city, and the sight of its inhabitants being industrious, travelling around, and — yes — eating should be one which we cherish, or at the very least, accept as a fact of life.
Yet from time to time the food police come out to play, desperate for a crackdown on crumpets, an embargo on enchiladas, and curtains for crisps.
Some dream of seeing Transport for London staffers patrolling the Tube carriages, on the prowl for passengers attempting to snaffle a cheeky sausage roll.
It’s an image I find intrinsically offensive, because some people have to eat as they travel while others simply want to. And frankly, who is anyone to stop them?
There’s a whiff of authoritarianism about whipping away a person’s right to eat in public
Firstly, there’s a whiff of authoritarianism about whipping away a person’s right to eat in public. It’s driven by a primal urge for a ban — not on something causing a danger, but on a normal activity that some have simply come to intensely dislike.
There are many things that are banned on the Tube: shouting at the staff, smoking, rollerskating, carrying a hoverboard, skateboarding on the platform, running up the escalator in the wrong direction, using the door between carriages while the train is moving.
To varying degrees, the things that are banned make sense from a safety perspective.
Banning food would serve no such higher purpose than to satisfy the personal tastes of some.
And let’s be realistic, a “no food allowed” rule would have to be accompanied — like all the other rules — with a punishment for those who step out of line.
A £100 fine, perhaps. And for those who don’t pay the fine? Criminal prosecution.
This month, a 23-year-old man was ordered by a court to pay £558 for the crime of rollerskating out of Nine Elms Station. That’s the ultimate endgame of TfL rules.
What kind of message would that be to send to the world — come to London, enjoy our delights, but you might be convicted and impoverished for enjoying a post-match hotdog on the Jubilee Line ride home from Wembley Stadium.
Aromatic food appears to provoke the most outrage. Cold food is fine, say some, just not the hot stuff. And anything that’s going to leave a mess just shouldn’t be allowed, they protest.
Are we talking bouncers at the Tube gates? “The meatball sub is fine, but hold the marinara sauce”. Or sniffer dogs to detect the smelly stuff, and full body scanners to weed out the hidden snacks?
We don’t need draconian bans, we need to lighten up, and behave appropriately if you get peeved at a fellow Tube passenger going about their life in a different way to you.
Have we lost the art of showing disapproval without resorting to rules and banishments?
During Covid, I quickly learned to simply get up and switch seats if a nearby passenger had an anxiety-inducing cough. Similarly, if there’s a group of Man United fans loudly insisting their team might win a cup any time soon, just move.
There’s little more annoying than someone who takes a call on speaker on the Tube, ostentatiously holding the handset in front of them like an Apprentice candidate with no care whether we all want to know that tomorrow’s meeting has moved to 12.30pm. Put your earphones in and try to ignore it, I say.
The man I encountered a few weeks ago who spent 45 minutes playing YouTube videos detailing the gruesome crimes of serial killers was a bizarre sight. Then incredibly grating. And ultimately it ended with a switch of carriages.
It’d be a strange world indeed if a dog licked my leg, and it turned out I was the one committing the offence
Personally — and I know I’m in danger of alienating the entire readership here — I can’t stand finding myself sitting next someone’s pet dog on my ride home. The constant threat of being rubbed, pawed at, slobbered on, and all the while everyone else finds the dog utterly adorable.
But as much as I might want in that moment to never see a dog again, let alone on a packed Tube train, I wouldn’t dream of agitating for them to be banned.
I have been known to tuck into a sandwich on my “lunch break” while bidding to get from Isleworth crown court to Snaresbrook crown court in less than an hour. It’d be a strange world indeed if a dog licked my leg and tried to eat my lunch, and it turned out I was the one committing the most heinous offence, simply for eating.
A tut, some heavy side-eye, an awkward shuffle. Have we lost the art of showing disapproval without resorting to rules and banishments?
If someone is enjoying their food without actively bothering others, good luck to them. I personally enjoy seeing what cuisine has been selected. And I think London is better than culinary crackdowns. But above all, I think we have better things to worry about on the Tube than food. Knife crime, violence, sexual abuse against women and girls, theft and robbery. Those are the issues that truly deserve action.
But tackling the devils that actually blight our public transport is hard, and so we resort instead to railing against the Deviled Eggs.
Tristan Kirk is the Standard’s Courts Correspondent
