British people can pride themselves on few things: Our language for one, that bunch of German incestuous slugs we call the Royal family second and of course our capacity for drinking gallons of cheap lager while abroad. But nothing says Rule Britannia like a good line. No matter your age, your creed or your colour, if there is a queue anywhere in Britain you get to the back and wait your turn. There is no exception - why the Queen herself might one day fancy a 99 with a flake** and if she came upon a line in front of the ice cream van, by God she would get to the back of it. Queuing - it's what separates us from the animals. It's our art form.
It's not hard to master - first come, first serve. First to cometh upon the establishment, the first to be serveth by the establishment. If I have finished my shopping before someone, logic and politeness dictates that I should be able to pay for my shopping before that person. If we didn't have this startling simple system it would be anarchy - why without the order of queues we may as well throw our shopping basket down, rip off our clothes, sling some shit against the wall and start mating with whatever we can get our hands on.
But for Hungarians it's just not that simple. It's more first come, 'better keep your wits about and stand as close to the shop assistant as possible' served. You have to have eyes in the back of your head. Standing in the queue....standing in the queue....turn around for one billi-second...BAM! An old lady has shoved past you and begun placing her various sandwich meats on the conveyor. And does she have remorse? Is she wracked with guilt? No, she just stands there counting out her coins with a 'I have had a hard life' grimace on her face.
I have been in situations where there have been 10 to 15 people in a line waiting to be served, bustling for position like it was the start of the Olympic marathon, when out of the blue a man just waltzed in front of me. Then, then he smiled at me! Smiled! The nerve! The bastard took my place in the line....and smiled! I didn't know what to do. Should I smile back? Is the V sign a gesture of anger here? Is it OK to hit a man in his sixties?
The post office is the worst. It's so bad that I am not going to regale you with the heinous tales. Just think of the most hideously unjust situation you have ever been the victim of, add the stench of a lot of unwashed old women and gypsies and you are close to what it's like to try and post a letter from Hungary.
But it's something they have grown accustomed to. Like the smells, or the unerring sense of doom. It's not impolite here, it's just the done thing.
I must finish as my blood pressure is rising to dangerous levels for a young non-smoker of 23. There are many things that shock me in this country; acts of sheer stupidity or lack of foresight that make you want to cry - but nothing, nothing beggars belief like experiencing Hungarians waiting to be served.
*For all you Americans, queuing is "standing in line"
** Again for the johnny foreigners - a 99 with a flake is a soft ice cream, usually costing 99p, with a Cadbury's flake stuck in it, sold by an immigrant in a van. It's a British summertime tradition, like socks and sandals or donkey rides.
1 comment:
DO some more you cunt, these are really good. I know for a fact that you're up to htings, we visited you (if anything else it was interesting), you have big news and your hair is amazing!
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