one of the few times I rode on the London Underground, there was a homeless guy that wandered into the crowd with only a hospital smock on carrying a take out food container and a beer can.
he went to the edge of the platform, tottered (or perhaps he teetered) on the brink of falling in, and then straightening up and whipped his beer can at the third rail where it splattered after boucning around a bit.
then he turned around to the crowd and said something that I didn't understand.
then he took off the hospital smock and stood there naked, taking peices of meat - which looked like liver to me - out of the container and started throwing it at men in business suits and singing obscinities.
the train came and everyone got on, including this man - he just got in people's faces, smelling of shit and piss, with a huge distanded belly and would spit out swears at them.
thankfully my ride with him was brief - but a few days later accross town at another stop I saw him again, this time with more clothing on.
that's mainly what I recall of London - that and I got hit in the eye by a small rock while on one of those red double decker busses.
that hurt like a motherfucker