If you broadcast noise on the Tube, you are an aural barbarian

NEVER in my wildest, worst dreams did I ever believe a man eating an entire tub of roasted garlic hummus with a baguette could be trumped as the nadir of my experiences on public transport. That man, unafraid to unleash his chickpea Chernobyl on a packed rush-hour Victoria line carriage, at least had the benefit of being a rogue agent. It's true other thoughtless travelling souls with peppery pasties and booze-induced Big Macs are common and quite annoying, but 2023 has been the year of something much worse on London's transport network: the public phone broadcast.

- George Chesterton

Every day commuters on our trains and buses are subjected to the aural equivalent of roasted garlic hummus: passengers listening to music, watching TV and amplifying their private conversations to all and sundry. This is not a few lone wolves. This is a cultural phenomenon and it's phenomenally rude.

My life has been enriched by the London Underground and it's just part of the deal that you learn to tolerate others. It has, in that sense, been a force for good. You might have someone's armpit in your face from time to time.

On early mornings at the stations at the end of lines you'll be sitting next to a tradesman honking weed, now that getting high before work has officially become a thing. Once I sat next to a man with a six-inch gash in a leg cut out by his angle grinder who lost so much blood on the carriage floor he fainted.

But the new noise polluters cannot and must not be tolerated.