Queues - The Rules

Being British and more to the point English, I know all about the etiquette of queues.  It does not just go from the humble post office but extends to all sorts of places, the ice cream van, the bus stop even the toilet.  People are often seen in many places around the British Isles having polite arguments about the other person being before them in the queue.  'No, no, I am sure you were before me', 'But really I insist you must go first, I only have a trolley full of food to buy...'

Belgium, if you so much as blink and you will find some old biddy has slipped past you, bakers, bus queues, supermarkets, everywhere.  I was recently passing through Brussels airport on my way home and I happened to overhear a rather terse conversation between a French speaking Belgian and someone I can only assume was British.  She was getting quite irate at the accusation that she may be trying to push in whilst stood in the queue for passport control.  'What, you think I am pushing in, do you have a problem? Eh, eh, eh?'  Then cue a quick burst of French to the amused bystanders who think it is hilarious, more so because the innocent party cannot understand what is being said.  Of course we are so sensitive, the British that is, that we will often not mention when someone has been rude enough to squeeze in.  When we do we expect the guilty party to apologise profusely and step aside, in fact the crowd would be baying for blood and they would have to leave the area immediately.  We certainly don't expect a vicious response, which I can only describe as defensive.  Now at this point, having noted that two people had already jumped me in the queue, I was so tempted to turn around and say, ' well, in addition to cycling, the other national sport in Belgium is queue jumping, they are Olympic champions at this'.  However, I chose to remain silent, I mean what's the point?  I have not quite picked up this indifferent habit yet but people are shocked when I let them go before me as if to say 'hey, is there a trap door here or some other danger lurking?'

Now saying that of course the UK is changing and is always evolving, my first experience of to hell with queuing, the slowest gets crushed attitude was in London.  My illusion of green and pleasant hills, friendly neighbours and strong communities was well and truly shattered when I caught my first tube on the London Underground.  we are, however, still leagues ahead in terms of courtesy to complete strangers, some parts of the UK more so than others.

There is a strange paradox here, the Belgians do like to use ticket machines to determine who should come next in the queue.  I cannot quite get my head around this, the idea that there should be an utterly fair way of dealing with people in the right order.  That said, the buggers will not tell you when the ticket machine is not in use so you can stand there like a chimp holding number 5 and everyone else is just getting served because they are not using the machine today.  In stark contrast you can be the last two people on earth and the buffoon behind the post office counter will still expect you to push the button and print a needless ticket.  'I say, old chap, I have just walked across this barren wasteland and yours is the first cheerful and human face I have seen in days, would you mind telling me how much it is to post this?'  'You need to take a ticket sir', 'I'm sorry, was there a queue, did I have to barge in through this throng, this heaving, sweating bunch of mail denied freaks?'  'Still have to take a ticket sir'  After much chundering I then go to the machine and am faced with a choice of buttons than I cannot read and quite frankly would most likely end up triggering the launch of a nuclear missile if I get them in the wrong order.  Thankfully it doesn't matter too much but you may end up getting directed to another window.  It is all a test.

Oh by the way, there are no rules.  It is survival of the most cunning and devious and they come in all ages and look like angels too so watch out!