Boris Johnson’s voice   Leave a comment

Boris Johnson is the mayor of London.
Big lardy man with a bad hairdo.
Symbol of the bad side of London life.
During the Olympics a recording of his voice is being played on all public transport and in stations at random intervals.

Every time it is played, you can observe real Londoners jerking suddenly, and hear sharp intakes of breath as if they are suddenly experiencing an electric shock to their genitals. All through the tube or bus, people make eye contact and then roll the same eyes to the ceiling, grimace, rattle their newspapers and frown. I get goosebumps every time I hear him. It puts me in such a bad mood. I grind my teeth and lose all concentration. I arrive at work and I am mean to the poor and disenfranchised, directly as a result of this.

“What ho peasants! This is the big one! Jolly yourselves along now and be nice! Ho! Ho! Ho!” (I’m paraphrasing a little. Well… at least, that is what I hear when the recording is played.)

Dear London Transport, I and my colleagues, nice hardworking people have started a campaign. We hate this man’s voice but we cannot stop it being played. We need to travel to work. Our powerlessness has led us to desperate measures.

We have sworn in blood, to make a note of every time we hear BJ’s voice each day. This becomes our ‘tourist target’. It is our duty to locate this number of tourists in London each day, and make their lives miserable.

We’ve kicked one, given wrong directions to another and smirked at a poor little old couple while they stood and we sat in the in priority seats. We make faces at little children in crowded tube carriages to make them cry. We elbow tourists at the door of the tube and trip them up when they try to exit the bus. Then we come to work and share our achievements.

This goes against the grain for us. We are decent folk.
But we have sworn to continue to do this until the torturous sound of his grating voice is removed. It is the only mechanism we have to exact revenge.

London Transport, Boris Johnson is the man who will eventually make you all lose your jobs. He is not a friend of the worker. I urge you now, break the tape! Destroy the disk! Don’t let this monster’s voice ruin tourism for London!


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