Picture this. The serenity of a London morning bus. Everyone is silent, save for the odd throat clear or shuffle of feet on and off board the red steed. An enforced guided meditation around London’s leafy streets. The main soundtrack is the huff of the bus’s wheels as it allows more passengers into the throng, they too accepting the unwritten rule of quietude. My bus mates and I gently jostle and sway as the bus guides us to our destinations, calm, content, staying in our lane. Bliss.
Until: Tinny music from a mobile phone cuts through the noise. Or worse, TikToks. Three seconds of Doechii’s Anxiety. Two seconds of an American accent. Scream laughing. Three seconds of Andrew Tate. Four seconds of a person reacting to Andrew Tate. Two seconds of Birds of a Feather by Billie Eilish. Repeat.
