London’s tube trains and stations right now feature a series of incredibly patronising etiquette poems – encouraging people to move down the carriage, get off at the next station if they’re ill, and suchlike. They’re so bad that I suspect them to be deliberately so to provoke discussion.
Anyway, recent morning tube reading inspired me the other day. Here’s my school-story-inspired version:
You there, sitting reading porn
We can tell you’ve got the horn.
Your neighbour can read over your shoulder:
Make your characters a little older.
Transport for London held a competition for contributions to their campaign. Sadly, it’s now closed, so I hereby grant poetic licence to anyone who wants to join in with their version…
It may seem quite peculiar
It may come as a shock
But trust me on this, Sunshine:
No one wants to see your cock.
Poetry is so fun
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