I arrived on the clockwise circle line platform at Victoria Station shortly before 7pm. I was tired and not really up for a party and intending to surreptitiously sip Gin and Tonic from a can in my own private protest in the last carriage. Someone had already been partying in this particular carriage. The floor was littered with empty beer cans and the air was ripe with the smell of spilt beer. the party had started early ! While waiting for the train to move off I eagerly scanned the carriage for party people, but alas they all seemed to have left. I resigned myself to a party of one until an almighty roar when up as the train pulled into Sloan Square. Almost instantly the half empty carriage was filled to capacity with drunken revellers. "PARTY ON THE TUBE !!!!!!" yelled the South African ring leader yelled while dispensing cheap red wine from a box under his arm. "Is this some sort of anti-Boris protest?" Asked the girl sitting next to me. "No way! I love Boris, 'cos he's got a Russian name and my mate's Russian! That's as political as I get. Party on the Tube! Would you like some red wine?" Saffa then spent the ride to the next station coaxing the girl into drinking half a plastic cup of cheap French wine. This evidently got her into the party mood as she joined in with the other revelers cheering and yelling Party on the tube! each time we pulled into a station. South Kensington generated the biggest cheer of all when the Crowd spotted the 2 uniformed policemen on the station. "Party on the tube!" "Hey look that chick was going to get on and then changed her mind when she saw this carriage! PARTY ON THE TUBE!!!"
I cracked open a can of G&T so I wouldn't look out of place. "We need some music. Someone sing a song!" Saffa decreed. "Fuck Off Boris" the carriage chanted. "Oggy, Oggy, Oggy!" a new addition yelled as he shoved his way on at Notting Hill Gate. Some one popps open a bottle of Champagne and a greasy metal head in a fringed leather jacket almost lands in my lap trying to escape the spray form the bottle. The cheering and chanting is getting louder and is accompanied by banging on the walls and ceiling. A metal head with long hair is trying to unscrew the Circle Line map from above the door. I alight at Baker Street, as much as I was enjoying it, it was just going to be more of the same and the metal heads were getting a bit to aggressive in their fun for my liking.
I wait for the next train. I'm curious to see if there are any more early parties going on. The train pulls up and a bloke in a shirt, trousers and very bad blond wig runs to the end of the train and jumps into the carriage. Curious, I follow and find a half full carriage consisting of fairly posh blokes in shirts and bad blond wigs and girls in dresses. 'Ah! it's the sophisticated circle line drinks party, and they've all come in fancy dress as boris!'
It's quite a change of pace from the full-on hardcore party of the previous train. This lot don't seem to mind though. They seem to be having a great time and even have a bag full of nibbles. I feel like a gatecrasher at this party decided I've had enough at Euston Square and I head home.