Londoners everywhere are being forced above ground, standing on stationary staircases hoping they'll move, scanning Oyster cards on bollards.
A Londoner looks at a tree. "What is it?” he asks a stranger. The stranger, never having spoken to a human on his commute, runs away.
The Londoner begins to walk. The air is fresh, the skies are clear and, to his left, two people are laughing. He has never felt so scared.
Walking vigorously, he decides he needs a beverage. Something delicious and natural. Something fruit-based. "But what?" he thinks.
The Londoner walks, clutching his inferior own label smoothie product. "This tastes odd", he thinks. "I did not make a wise decision here."
He's not far from work now. He must cross the road. Not having a yellow line to guide him, he veers dangerously close to the edge.
He sees a cyclist. "LOOK AT ME CYCLING WITH MY GIANT CYCLING LEGS," The Cyclist bellows. "WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE."
"You don't need to shout," The Londoner tells The Cyclist. "you're right next to me". "I'M JUST VERY EXCITED. IT'S A BIG DAY FOR CYCLISTS."
The Londoner, exhausted, stumbles into work. Brenda from HR is cowered in the corner. "Rail replacement bus service" she mumbles, wide-eyed.
Shakily, he makes a coffee. Into the kitchenette strides The Cyclist. "GREAT COMMUTE TODAY," he bellows. "JUST LIKE EVERY DAY." The Londoner stirs his coffee, avoiding eye contact.
"I JUST FEEL SORRY FOR ALL THE PEOPLE WHO DON'T CYCLE EVERY DAY," he bellows at the Londoner, who spills his coffee.
The Londoner reaches his desk. Wanting to capture every detail, he opens his blog. "You wouldn't believe the morning I've had", he begins...