The Queue

There’s a myth that British people like to queue. 

I am sure that there are some of my fellow countrymen who like to stand in a line of people waiting to fulfil a mundane task or perhaps even wish to be rewarded after patiently waiting for the people in front of them. 

But let me tell you one thing: I am British and I bloody well hate queuing. 

It’s not so bad if there are only one or two people in front of me but if the queue has more than ten people you will see this particular Englishman, externally at least, roll his eyes in frustration. Internally I will be cursing, chastising myself for not getting to the queue earlier and generally my mood will plummet. If you are in the queue with me the only sign that you will see of inner self-loathing will be sighs of frustration and trying to look ahead to see how quickly the queue is actually moving. 

If you could read my mind you would be appalled at the language of my inner voice. You would hear me mentally yelling at the people in front of me to hurry up while at the same time cursing the person who is dealing with the queue for not processing people quickly enough. 

Those weird people who actually enjoy queuing say that it gives them the opportunity to chat to people in the queue. Have you ever heard strangers in a queue talking to each other? They aren’t talking about how much they love queuing. They are talking about how much they hate queuing. It’s a walking paradox or more accurately a queuing paradox.

People also say that “Patience is a virtue” and I am a very patient person – unless I am in a queue when all traces of patience are expelled from my brain.

I have numerous examples of being involved in a long queue and things that piss me off about standing in line. Here’s just one – a simple one:

I’ve just returned from Nice and while queuing at airport security, there was a person in front of me asking questions about what he should put in the tray to go through the sensors. 

“Do I have to take my coat off? What about my belt? I’ve got a laptop in my bag, does that have to come out of the bag too? What about my keys? What about my phone? Do I have to take my shoes off? What about my watch and my glasses? And my wallet? And the coins in my back pocket? Oh – and I have some liquids. What’s the upper limit?”

Now these are all reasonable questions because every airport is different and the technology for scanning you and your hand luggage varies. Nevertheless, the queue-hater in me comes out screaming. My inner voice shrieks:

“CAN’T YOU READ? There are signs EVERYWHERE answering all of these questions FOR YOU!” 

This only happens in my head of course, otherwise I would probably be arrested because there are signs warning you about being aggressive or just a very grumpy person in a queue. Outside I appear to be the calmest person in the world but inside I am a ranting monster and a raving lunatic. This is what queuing does to me.

If it were up to me, queues would be abolished. Practically speaking of course that is impossible because queues exist for a reason and they exist worldwide. 

I have no answers. Queues are sadly a part of life and are inevitable. 

However, there is one British stereotype about queuing that I embrace whole-heartedly. And that is when I see somebody trying to jump into the queue. British people HATE queue jumpers and the usual so-called polite and reserved Englishman will act immediately if he thinks somebody is committing the cardinal sin of queue jumping. 

Here’s an example of a subtle technique used that Englishmen would react to instantly. This is highlighted by Larry David, an American, but the principle is the same:

Such behaviour in England is wholly unacceptable and can cause outrage. 

For example, we had a couple of minor celebrities called Phillip Schofield and Holly Willoughby who, at the time of the Queen’s death, were generally quite well-liked and respected (not by me but that’s a different story).  They had a TV magazine show called “This Morning” that was very popular. 

It all threatened to fall apart for them when they committed the cardinal queuing sin. The queue in question was to see Queen Elizabeth II lying in state and the length of the queue was enormous. Famous people mingled with your everyday Brit just to pay their respects and queued for more than twelve hours. 

Imagine that: QUEUING FOR 12 HOURS! 

However, Schofield and Willoughby used their “job” as an excuse to jump the queue and many people caught them on camera doing just that. There was complete outrage throughout the country. Many avid viewers of their show threatened to boycott the pair of them and for a time it looked like they were going to lose their jobs. 

They were forced to apologise:

Queuing is bad enough but having to queue while driving takes it to a new and higher level. And queue jumpers in this situation are treated as if they are beneath contempt. 

Picture the scene. You are driving on a three lane motorway and two of the lanes are blocked or closed a couple of miles ahead. This means that everybody in the two closed lanes has to merge into the one open lane. There is usually ample notice so the right thing to do is to gradually edge over to merge. People in the open lane acknowledge this and are quite happy to let people merge in gradually. However, there are some people (and let’s call them by their true name – arseholes) who decide that they are going to avoid the queues to merge and just rush down to the blockage itself and merge there thus avoiding most of the queue. This is a crime that should be punishable by law in the eyes of most people and as soon as people in the queue recognise what is happening, they all band together to stop the arsehole from merging. 

Similarly this can happen if people try to avoid queuing for a turnoff by waiting until the last minute to join those who have been queuing for ages. At this point road rage can definitely enter the equation and you can see some of the reactions if you look up queue jumping cars in Britain, where people post dashcam footage to name and shame the drivers. 

Queue jumping seems to be more rife abroad. I was in Crete many years ago and queuing to get on a boat when all of a sudden a bunch of Germans tried to push in at the front as if there were no such thing as queue etiquette. They were quickly dispatched to the back of the queue by a rather angry English lady at the front. 

This is what queuing does to people.

Next time you are in a queue try thinking about being in the queue with me. You will see a calm person queuing in an orderly fashion, occasionally rolling his eyes or sighing. If you try talking to me I will say something like “I wish this queue would hurry along.” But know that my inner hulk is raging. Thankfully nobody will ever see that inner hulk nor will you hear me reciting the lyrics in the following song. I hate queuing but I will never be a queue jumper: