Personal Space.

This picture sums up the attitude of the general public in a nutshell for me.

Tit.

I spotted this classic example of looking-out-for-number-one parking at Hitchin Station a few months ago and it really got under my skin. While I can’t be certain the Mercedes’ owner was the one at fault - they may have been hamstrung by vehicles either side of them that are now gone - it’s pretty fair to say they were the to blame; the car's position's too flagrant to be an accident. And I bet they felt they had the perfect excuse: they're the centre of the Universe. And when the centre of the Universe risks missing their train, everyone else’s rights go out of the window. To not be selfish is to show weakness; this is their film and they’re the central character: they’re Steven Seagal, okay?

While I hate sexual stereotyping, this may be the only time in human history where we can say without a shadow of a doubt that the car's owner was a man; I’d stake my life on it. Not just a man, but one whose testicles need so much breathing space his legs are permanently spread at a perfect 180° angle like the yawning of a snake with a disengaged jaw. Not that you’d be able to sit next to him anyway, as his bag is so valuable it needs a seat - nay, a whole carriage - to itself too.

I never understand how people can become so self-centred, when there must have been ample opportunity for a parent, guardian, sibling, friend or teacher to put them right. Life should have presented them with so much evidence to the contrary; so many chances to nip their appalling behavior in the bud have been missed. If there’s any justice, their manspreading will result in permanent hip damage; I hope they wind up looking like a mantrap with a broken spring. 

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