Whilst I am sure that many nations use the tut to great ends, none has ever quite equalled the unique level of disapproval achieved by the British tutter in a Post Office queue. I have, however, recently noticed the demise of the common tut, which seems to have been forced out of the major cities, into suburbs and small countryside towns. There are three major theories for this decline: a rise in immigration has led to a breakdown in communication over the meaning of the tut; a rise in bad manners has led to a weakening of the power of the tut, and therefore a loss of sustaining habitat; global warming has led to tutters being too hot to tut. The latter point has been more or less dismissed as scientifically unprovable.
With the tut facing imminent extinction, it is time to act. I feel it is necessary to start a campaign to re-establish the effective and unmistakable meaning of the British tut, in order to bring social cohesion and well-being back to the cities of Britain.
Monday Morning Post Office Queue
8:55
“Five minutes” the timekeeper announces
Fifth from the front.
The queue shuffles slightly
Forward
Towards the still
Closed door.
8:56
All heads bowed, as if to look at feet
But eyes monitor
All those who come too near,
Checking
The queue boundary
For suspects.
8:57
“He's there” an older voice informs
Eyes shift to the glass
Feet shuffle again,
Actively
Waiting for the lock
To be opened.
8:58
One lone woman, early twenties
Approaches from the left
Comes close to third position
Steps in
Looks around in innocence
Attempts to blend.
8:59
Places five to twelve crane forward
Quiet muttering of dissent
“Ought to be ashamed”
“A Queue!”
But nothing works to move
The jumper.
9:00
Elderly lady, in ninth place
Takes drastic action
Waits for silence
Tuts
Barger looks around, ashamed
“Sorry, is this a queue?”
9:01
Door opens, late, queue waddles in
Elbows out to stop
The most feared
Overtaking,
Each now tutting
For being kept waiting.
