For the average London commuter, it’s a shared experience – a rite of passage, if you will.
One minute you’re eagerly racing to work with the best of intentions, the next you’re put on a tube cart like the proverbial sardines in a noisy tin.
If you’re lucky, you might happen to be in the rarest place – an empty seat – but more often you’ll be faced with someone who doesn’t decide to eat a large amount of garlic in the evening. .
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