It’s probably happened to you – you’re on public transport minding your own business, and then you realise that some creepy perv is either rubbing up against you or fiddling around in his pants. When I was in college, I was going home on the No. 16 bus one night when a man with a slightly odd demeanour sat next to me (despite the fact that there were lots of empty seats) and, after a few minutes, opened his fly, got out his junk and started wanking away. I wish I’d acted like this woman.
Instead, I leaped to my feet in silent horror, whereupon the perv got up and went downstairs. But soon I realised he hadn’t got off the bus and was possibly ready to perv again, so I went downstairs and told the driver, who rang Whitehall Garda Station, which we were quickly approaching. Realising that he was going to get arrested, the wanker tried to stop the bus and get off early but, quite awesomely, some passengers who’d noticed his behaviour upstairs intervened and barred his way. The last I saw of him, he was being led away by the gardaí. Still, I wish I’d actually told him what I thought of him, same as I wish I’d told the various other flashers and public masturbators and would-be frottagers I, like most of us, have encountered over the last few decades. The problem is that often we think we’re going to yell and make and fuss and then when something actually happens we’re so shocked and disturbed that we kind of freeze.
So what about you? How have you dealt with public pervery?