Thursday, February 02, 2012
Those cute looking yellow things will do some damage.
Like I needed another excuse not to touch public handrails. Or mingle with commoners under the Earth's crust.
Mingling with flu-fraught sneezers above the Earth's crust is a painful experience, nevermind underneath the actual city.
Dude. There's a flesh-eating virus doing the rounds on the Underground.
Did you read that? Not flu revolving around farm animals like chickens and pigs, but [New! Improved!] flu viros that starts eating away at your flesh.
Christ Almighty, what levels of depravity can't the flu virus sink to? Fucking humans, sneezing, dripping, touching things - oh my GOD, I need a bio-hazard suit for my daily commute.
(Could there be a song in that? Drop a beat, I need a fuckin' bio-hazard suit, yeah yeah baby, for my daily commute, dog....)
Not that the Metro doesn't sensationalise any of their shit, but when you're standing on a train reading this article, you're going to take precautions.
Especially if you're an OCD 'I don't fondle stuff outside of my house' - person like me.
Anyway. So if I can try and avoid taking a tube for the next week (then I fly to South Africa, where all I have to be weary of is AIDS and in extremely rare cases, malaria).
The problem is, when I return from my jolly jaunt down south, our office is moving. We are moving to our other London site in Soho.
Great location, shit commute. I have to take a tube to work from March onwards.
Not a train, with windows and air and stuff, a fucking tube.
Right. So now that I'm fully having a panic attack at my desk, I'm going to step away and not imagine hand railings pocked with a flesh-eating virus.