I hate the fat blithering incompetent complacency of our public transport system. I have often fantasised about stripping naked, daubing myself in the blood of a senior rail boss and launching myself across London bridge while defecating in order to register (through the medium of contemporary dance) my displeasure.

I also detest the new media hand job generator that is Twitter.com. I'm sure your Twitter feed is a work of genius, but every one I've seen so far is a pile of steaming camel shit that only serves to act as a sickening magnifying glass held high to examine the fine detail of that over stuffed bucket of petty banalities Twitter-ers call a life.

Yet, as a tracking tool to isolate white middleclass digi-marketing nerds so that they can be lined up, stripped, hog-tied and used as fuel in my new idiot-powered reactor core come the revolution, I commend it.

The point I am getting to, is that TFL and Twitter deserve each other. It also gives me a place to log all the terrible shit that TFL get up to so I can send them a digest of their own failure, monthly, by post, in triplicate.

Here it is. Cunts.