We all have that one memory. For me, it was a rainy Saturday in December. I was wearing new shoes that looked comfortable but felt like medieval torture devices. A man in a giant Pikachu costume nearly elbowed me into a puddle of slush.
I paid £8 for a hot chocolate that was basically warm milk with a whisper of cocoa. I would have gladly donated my entire monthly salary to a “make it stop” fund. That’s the emotional cost Oxford Street currently extracts.
Oxford Street pedestrianisation plan gets final official approval - BBC
The chief executive’s salary probably costs less than the collective chiropractor bills for Londoners who have twisted their ankles on cracked paving stones while fleeing a Segway tour group. It’s basic math, really.
What You’d Do with That Salary
Let’s daydream. If I were chief exec, my first purchase would be a giant, silent bubble to put around the Oxford Circus tube entrance. No more human traffic jams where you smell twelve different deodorants simultaneously.
My second act: a dedicated “slow walker lane”. You know the type. They meander four abreast, checking their phone, completely oblivious to the fact that the rest of humanity has places to be. My salary would fund a polite but firm volunteer to guide them aside.
And for that money, I would personally buy a pair of noise-cancelling headphones for every local resident. The constant rumble of buses and the “TURN LEFT FOR LEGO LAND” announcements are a form of psychological warfare.
The critics say it’s a waste of cash. They say, “Just let the buses run!” But those people have clearly never tried to push a buggy past a broken-down Routemaster while a mime pretends to be stuck in a box. It’s a special kind of hell.
Look, I get it. Salaries for top public roles feel obscene when you’re trying to afford a Pret sandwich. But this isn’t just a job; it’s a public exorcism. We’re paying one person to remove the demon of “frustrated shopper” from our capital city.
One-day pedestrianisation of Oxford Street ‘will give glimpse of future’
Will they succeed? Who knows. But for that salary, they’d better have a plan to make the street smell like fresh croissants instead of stale exhaust fumes and deep-fried dough. And they’d better make the Christmas lights actually worth stopping for.
Until then, I’ll be over here, dreaming of a wide, clean path where I can walk without having to do a Matrix-style dodge every three seconds. And I’ll be rooting for that well-paid CEO, because God knows, we need a miracle worker with a very good expense account.
Perhaps the funniest part is the job title itself: Chief Executive of Pedestrianisation. It sounds like a made-up role from a satirical sitcom. “Welcome to the board meeting. Today’s agenda: how to make people walk slower without them noticing.”
Still, if it means I can finally enjoy a street cone without a bus trying to park on it, then pay the person whatever they want. Just make sure they include a free umbrella and a lifetime supply of patience in their contract. They’ll need it.
So, here’s to the new boss. May their salary bring us a pavement that doesn’t feel like a final exam in navigation. And may they remember that every pound of that pay cheque is a small donation to our collective sanity.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to practice my “aggressive but polite” walk. I hear the chief exec is hiring for a deputy director of pedestrian flow. My CV is ready, and my shins are pre-bruised from experience.
