h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

If you are a women you will be groped and exposed to on the tube on a fairly regular basis. Techniques include, the blatent, 'oh sorry I though your breast was a handrail', to the very sleezy, 'the train is crowded, but not that crowded mate and it isn't jiggling up and down as fast as you are either. Kick.'
You can also spot the 'I am wanking behind this newspaper and I bet you are too embarrassed to say anything', or even an occasional, 'I am wearing shorts, with legs spread wide, and oh sorry I didn't spot my genitalia hanging out there'.

My best tip for the gropers and grabbers is, a sharp stamp on the foot or kick in the shins, with a "Not another pervert" loudly.

For flashers I find a peel of laughter and "oh god look how small his dick is!!" encourages them to put it away a bit sharpish.

Of all the flasher's and groper's I've had the displeasure to meet on the Underground, there has only been one who should have been awarded some kind of special prize. The event - masturbating (shorts round legs), at rush hour on the Northern line (no surprises there) branch of Waterloo. The best part was he was apparently being stimulated by the copy of that night's television listings page that he was clutching delightedly. Never has the prospect of Eastenders tittilated someone so much.
Even more exciting was the response of Underground staff (as there were large groups of children around - I figured the guy would have been better elsewhere) - 'yeah right' said a highly sarcastic gum-chewer before returning to a nice sit down.

I've not even been here long enough to sort out a decent nick name, but the Flashers and Gropers section hit a passionate cord with me before anything else impinged on my mind. Oh boy do I know what you mean. A whole series of truly unfortunate Underground experiences (I travel by bus when I can) was capped recently when travelling from Covent Garden (work) to Baker Street (dinner) at rush hour.

I had to be persuaded in advance that it was worth the trip, because I loathe the tube. But, convinced, and wihtout boring on about the tube-went-nowhere-because-of-signalling-problems saga, I finally got on a moving tube full of people - and considered myself safe.

Stood inside a door and aimed for a post where, after a brief fight, got a hand-hold at around hip level to help with the sway-factor. Gazed randomly round the carriage to review the assortment of other human confusion.

Suddenly, strangely, not happily, felt odd sensation on hand. Looked at hand.

On end of hand was a tongue connected to a very hairy and dirty drunk sitting in the seat by the post onto which I was holding for dear life. My hand, the one I hold on to inoffensive posts for suppport with, was being licked entusiastically and with maximum sogginess.

This is England. Everyone was staring. The moment I realised that my hand was in fact the object of the dubious affection of a roaming and not particularly attractive blueish tongue, (connected to a most environmentally challenging smell) I looked up for small helpful laughs and a bit of sympathy (or even empathy), and WO! everyone was suddenly reading the ads!

While no-one flashed or groped, an unexpected licking can be just as traumatic!

I am sure that the London Underground is a wonderful and vibrant place to be on many occasions. However, I am obviously one of those people who is doomed to suffer the downsides!

Thanks for reading and I'll now go and get a decent name


96251!

Just a note to say, Oh no, how horrible! Being both male and completely self-absorbed on the whole, (insert sexist reply here) I have never witnessed anyone being groped or flashed. I love the underground and loathe london buses, and always hope for other people to have the same happy experience I do.

I have never understood why other people, particularly female friends, always hated going on the tube and take some persuding to come. I now find myself with a slowly dawning comprehension!

I would resolve to keep a look out next time, but that would break several English rules of etiqutte . Still, as Peta says, a swift kick in the goolies usually does the trick. Since I personally (like most men) will never,ever understand why these men do such a thing, I'm afraid I can't be much more help than to say I wish you well and that you don't encounter such freaks again!

Thanks for that! Having resorted to buses for the last few weeks, just got back to using the tube and nothing more horrible than signal failures and power-cuts has happened to disturb my early morning and late evening travels. I'm giving it the benefit of the doubt!

People are often standing pressed up against each other. All I can say is wear some deodorant or anti-perspirant. If you're a man, try not to let the "bouncy and exciting" effects of the tube cause you an embarrassment when you're pressed against another woman. A strategically placed briefcase works wonders here, and will save you getting your face slapped!

I once heard a tube story of a woman who was being groped by a man in a crowded tube. She picked up his hand from her rear end, held it in the air and loudly said "Does this belong to anyone, as it seems to be attached to my bottom?" The man went purple with embarrassment and slunk off the tube at the next stop.

I also have another story from overseas on the same subject:

Seventy-five per cent of women in Seoul, Korea, who responded to a recent questionnaire on the issue of groping on the underground indicated that they had indeed been victims of 'gropers'.

Violent crimes are rare in South Korea, but groping in different forms, like a men rubbing up against women or thrusting their hands under clothing are common on crowded tubes or buses.

Ninety-eight percent of respondents suggested that anti-groping signs might be a positive step. To this end signs were erected warning patrons to refrain from 'unpleasant acts of repulsive behaviour toward other passengers'. Spitting and smoking were not on the agenda.

For more on groping on the tube, see this site:

http://victorian.fortunecity.com/finsbury/254/tuberules.html#close

A flasher had a disappointing experience on the Paris Metro when he encountered my sister. She was travelling with an American friend from university, and happily chatting away when a man sitting opposite opened his raincoat, revealing everything. My sister carried on talking to her friend, who had turned away from the man to face my sister, and eventually the man closed his coat, got up and left. As soon as he'd gone, her friend commented on how cool and collected my sister had been when the man exposed himself.

'Man? - What man?' was my sister's puzzled reply. As an fine art student, having spent the previous couple of terms painting nudes of both sexes, she simply hadn't registered anything out of the ordinary, even though he was sitting right in front of her.