What would London Undergound lines look like if they were real people?
Katie Brennan, a blogger living in London, asked herself this question before deciding to create characters that reflected her opinion of the tube lines. The characters were then brought to life by Alexandra Bucktin’s lovely illustrations.
“A prick in a pub who drinks double Jack and coke, cheats on his wife and whose shirt slightly trains at the stomach. Once paid £420 for a ropey blow job in a brothel after a night with the lads. He’s pretty proud of it, tbf. Works in middle management and cried at the office Christmas do last year when he saw the two fit girls from payroll cackling at his rendition of ‘Angels’ on the karaoke machine. Has a Chinese symbol tattooed on one bicep and a Celtic band around the other.”
“A twentysomething graduate. She’s slow to start and a bit bewildered and unstable. She feels like she’s just going round and round, not really making any sense of her life. Finds making big decisions really hard, and panics daily when looking at everyone else who seems to know what they’re doing and are moving forward with their lives. Hates her mundane job, spends most of her day on Buzzfeed doing quizzes and reading their lists about things from the 90s, and can only dine out on vouchers, but on the flip side, has the best friends in the world. She can’t wait to feel like her life has finally started.”
“A zimmer-framed cranky old Nana who whinges every time she has to do anything. Her joints hurt in the winter, and when she is out shopping, she pauses for a little sit-down on the low-rise walls outside the high-rise flats to watch the world go by with a disapproving glance. She mourns the state of her neighbourhood and that no one knows each other’s names. Says the phrase ‘it weren’t like this in my day’ quite a lot.”
“A toddler. No wait, it’s not even that, it’s a sperm. A mere twinkle in the winking eye of TfL. (Look closely. The eyes have it)”
“A learned Oxbridge chap who remains an elusive bachelor in high-waisted trousers. Loves vintage fairs yet hates sequins and anything too flamboyant. Hitches his (pressed) tweed trousers up before he sits down. Is oddly fascinated by east London and all the filth it promises but worries he’ll never quite fit in. A boff. Ravenclaw.”
“An overgrown, braying ex-public-schoolboy in banking. Uses a heady blend of Californian surfer and Cockney rhyming slang “ironically” (“Bro! Take a ‘butchers’ at this!”), even though he’s never been near the real East End and when he was in LA all he did was go to all the places featured on The Hills. Secretly, he thought the Henley Regatta was better than the whole of LA. At 5.30pm on a Friday he pops his collar up, orders a round of ‘bucas for ‘the boys on 4th’, and wakes up the next morning, peeling his clammy arm off Crystal, the PA to the directors on 6th. Really, really loves red trousers.”
“A dolly bird who has “come up London for a day wiv the gells”. Wears four layers of fake tan and those double-layered false lashes. When she grins, she looks like a shiny orange camel, and at the bottom of her hi-shine plastic nails there’s a few millimetres where they’ve grown out. Finds utter glee in wearing matching personalised t-shirts with “naughty nicknames” on them – last time, on Jade’s hen, she was Little Miss PornStar. #lol!!!!!!!!!!!! Saves peoples names in her phone like this: ~x~Heavy black heart️Cherry blossomRabbit face My HuNnY BoO Rabbit faceCherry blossomHeavy black heart️~x~ “
“A foreheady dad with a Volvo and two kids. While he battles the ever growing bags under his eyes on the daily schlep to the City, the good lady wife does her shopping in Waitrose and loads it into a 4×4 she only uses for the school run. Wishes that he had more energy to be cooler. Debated going to Glasto in a yurt this year and taking the kids; instead opted for two weeks all-inclusive in Tenerife.”
“A groovy, beardy, leftie, Guardian-reading graduate with a lovely job in digital media and an accent that makes girls knees shake. Dreams of barge holidays and going to Alex James’s farm for a cheese festival. Voted Lib Dem last time and hates himself for it. Has recently set up a micro brewery in his airing cupboard and grows hops in his small patch of garden in Highgate.”
“A hipster debating whether their beard is cool or not any more, while sighing over the latest poem they’re tapping out on the vintage typewriter they’ve carted to their local elusive “I don’t give a shit” coffee shop, which throws in a free sardonic look with every flat white you buy. Only looks up when the vintage portable record player that they’re listening to with Beats headphones (“What? They were an Xmas present, OK?”) skips.”
“A clicky, gabbly snap-happy tourist gazing in wonder at London through the eyes of their shiny new Nikon. Thinks Jamie’s Italian is the same as Gaucho and that an Aberdeen Steak House is the finest in quality traditional British dining. Particularly loves Leicester Square, which everyone else knows is where souls and good taste come to die among dancing life-sized M&Ms and overpriced flat pints in chain pubs.”
“A 5-year-old smacked off their tits on candy floss and toffee apples at the funfair BECAUSE WAH OMG LIFE IS SO AMAZING!!!!”
“Universally loved by all. Popular, good looking, funny, and successful, the line all other lines fancy and want to be. This is the Will Smith/Michelle Obama of tube lines.”