Catching the train every day puts me in the oh-so fortunate position to be able to see and quietly judge the scum of Melbourne’s public transport system.

You know the types - the punk-arse kid sprawled across three seats, the obnoxious intellectuals talking too loudly about the economy, the dense school girls lowering your IQ just by being in their presence. Sure, it could be said that these people are just part of the rich tapestry of our PT system, but honestly, can’t they just piss off?

Yesterday I was on the way to work with my housemate Tess. The train was crowded, as usual, and everyone was packed into the space between the doorways with nothing to hold on to.

Looking around I saw that a Suit was leaning against one of the poles, like an arsehole, making it impossible for anyone to hold on to it. So, I asked him nicely if he would mind standing to the side so the people stumbling around him would have something to hold on to. Now, I’m a firm believer in innocent until proven guilty, but I was pretty sure this guy would get convicted by any anti-sonofabitch tribunal - he looked around at the expectant faces of people waiting for him to do the right thing, settled back and said “Nah, I’m happy here.” What the hell do you say to that?

It’s not like this was a one-off, there’s been so many times when I’ve been speechless at the kinds of dicketry seen on our PT system - like the couple so intent on reading their John Grisham’s during peak-hour that the shy school kid squashed between them got his eyes poked out every time either of them turned a page.

Admittedly, it’s not all bad. There have been times when I’ve found some PT antics hilarious. This is probably my favourite overheard conversation:

Girl 1: If any of the girls who hate me turn around and say anything to me today, I’m going to turn around and say something.

Girl 2: Ohmygod, really?

Girl 1: Yeah, I’m like gonna totally turn around and say “Don’t you turn around and say that - you were like backstabbing her the other day.”

Girl 2: Ohmygod.

Girl 1: Yeah, so if they turn around and say anything, I’m just gonna turn around and say something back.

Girl 2: Ohmygod!

Girl 1: Did you talk to your parents about the trip?

Girl 2: Ohmygod, they were so mad. Like, so mad.

Girl 1: Why?

Girl 2: They really don’t want me to go. They’re like “Why don’t you just go to Afghanistan?”

Girl 1: What? It’s not like it’s dangerous. I mean, just cos it’s going to be the Olympics, doesn’t mean anything will happen.

Girl 2: I think they meant about the earthquakes…

Girl 1: What…?

I don’t know what the solution is to getting these divs off the trains and trams, as they seem to be a guaranteed added mystery prize. I suppose all I really want to say is: there’s no point being an arsehole or a wanker or insanely stupid, because you’re just going to be quietly judged by me, and then written about in an incredibly prestigious publication. Like this one.