I’ve always wanted to meet the person who decided it was appropriate to leave the exterior design of our multi-million dollar public transport infrastructure to an army of presumably colour-blind primary school Picassos. Armed only with imagination, primary colours and skills which only a mother could pretend to love, their extensive repertoire of rainbows, stick figures, killer birds and disproportionate butterflies seems to be creeping over the city one cinder block at a time.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m a stickler for fostering creativity in young folk but I yearn for the days when this aesthetic rape was confined only to preschool drying racks and suburban refrigerators. Call me a scrooge but my problems with catching public transport were numerous enough prior to averaging 4 epileptic fits and 2 bouts of vertigo before reaching the ticket machine.
Kiddies, save it for the Magna-Doodle.
