There are...

Few things less maddening than leaving earlier then usual in the expectation of catching an earlier Jubilee  Line train.
Only to then get onto the platform at Canary Wharf to discover the next train isn't due for almost 5 minutes, and worse, it's only going to North f*cking Greenwich.
Then to add insult, the next Stratford train won't arrive for another 3 minutes after that pointless North Greenwich one.
And all the time you're standing there seething, there's some gormless bloody female twittering on the tannoy that there's a "good service".  Bollocks there is.
In fact, I left work earlier tonight than I did last night and still managed, thanks to London bloody Underground, to get to Stratford later than I did last night.
That kind of incompetence takes talent;  the kind of talent that only the cretins who elected that fat, ignorant, moronic, thicko dinosaur Bob bloody Crow can lay claim to.