Standing in never ending lines-Jottings

It is rare that one needs to stand in lines these days, but the few times that one does is enough to make one’s temper broil and the fumes start emanating from one’s nostrils, and the forehead start to glow a violent red, and by the time I actually reach the counter I have probably got into a couple of slanging matches, one of which might degenerate into an all out fist fight, especially if it involves people cutting into the line by the multiples having left one token specimen to mark space in said line.
Ergo, I decided that there must be certain rules nailed up to walls by the sides of all such spots which decry that we stand in line, and wait our turn to be served.
Rule 1] Thou shalt not cut into line before me. Or before anyone for that matter, no matter how grave your emergency, and never mind if you smile with the most hangdog, poor puppy me expression.
Rule 2} Rule 1 is not valid for the George Clooney, Richard Gere and Daniel Craig.
Rule 3] Further consideration can be granted to lookalikes of the above mentioned three divine creatures.
Rule 4] Thou shalt not stand in line as proxy person for an entire small conclave of your extended family, if more than two people come into the line using you as the missing link, you will be drawn and quartered on the spot, no questions asked.
Rule 5] Thou shalt not have long, animated and very audible conversations right next to my ear about situations regarding personal bodily functions to a concerned individual at the other end of your cellphone. This includes not detailing the results of your medical reports, down to the last platelet counts, nor explaining in graphic details your latest surgery for fistula correction.
Rule 6] You are allowed to leave your spot in the line, for urgent matters like the call of nature which cannot be held onto anymore for fear of internal herniation due to the pressure, or the need to get some vital nutrients into your system which you swear on your mother’s grave to share with the one who will risk life and limb to guard and preserve your spot in the line. Sauntering off without a bye your leave and re-emerging, fed and sated, while we collapse from starvation and dehydration is behaviour that deserves solitary confinement. With only steroid fed rats for company.
Rule 7] Do not use pieces of luggage to prod me further down the line by pushing them into the backs of my knees unless you have a death wish, or wish me to bring down said piece of luggage on your cranium.
Rule 8] Grumbling incessantly about how the line isn’t moving a smidgeon is not going to help it move. Constantly going upto the window and doing a little frothing at the mouth war dance of exasperation at the person manning said counter might get you a raised eyebrow as reaction, not any manner of increased speed in processing.
Rule 9] For the love of all that is holy, use your interminable time in the line to ensure your form is filled out accurately, you have all your documents in place and exact amounts of whatever dosh it is you need to hand over to the person of authority at the end of the counter. Don’t start diving into your handbag and fishing out spare change when you get asked for it.
Rule 10] Finally. Use a good, effective deo if it seems like a long, long wait. And given that we’re into a bitch of a summer, wear cotton. Or bring along some clothes clips to distribute to those in the near vicinity to clip their nostrils shut.