Queue please

Bloody Indians take to queuing like ducks to concentrated sulphuric acid. May be it’s a gene that’s been knocked out of line; may be it’s a mind that can only think laterally – but Bloody Indians just can’t queue.

This is strange because in India we have to queue for everything. Schooling. Emergency treatment. Cremation.

Bloody Indians in queues are like pythons – each time you exhale, they squeeze a little more. Somebody in front just has to scratch her ear and everybody behind will stumble forward. Just like at traffic lights, Bloody Indians cannot come to a halt. They have to creep.

A Bloody Indian in a queue will gently place his chest against your back, even if there’s an entire shopping mall behind him. At airports, Bloody Indians will keep bumping their four-ton luggage trolleys into your Achilles tendons. When you turn and glare at them, they say, “Sorry sorry sorry” and then two minutes later, they do it again.

As new Bloody Indians join a queue, they never stand behind you. They come up alongside, making you feel vulnerable and causing you to move to one side to cut them off. The instant you do that, the person behind you moves forward. Remember the python.

Bloody Indians can’t even handle two-person queues. You’re standing at an ATM waiting for the person inside to finish. (If it’s a Bloody Indian, they’ll take 20 minutes – but that’s another story.) A Bloody Indian arrives, but doesn’t stand behind you, he stands a little in front. Adrenalin surges, you pick some choice words, and you ready to leap like a leopard. As the person comes out of the ATM and you surge forward, the Bloody Indian actually turns to you and politely tells you to go ahead.

Thank you respected sir. But I was here first, SO HOW DARE YOU TELL ME TO GO AHEAD. BUFFALO.