The Everyday Barriers Hidden in Plain Sight

Wheelchair‑accessible transport and public buildings are often praised as triumphs of modern civilisation—usually by people who have never had to attempt to use them in a wheelchair! According to glossy brochures and cheerful government announcements, accessibility is everywhere. According to reality, it’s scarce, often broken, or the driver can’t be bothered to get off their backside to assist you!

Take public transport – buses proudly display the wheelchair symbol, as if the sticker itself gets the ramp down, which refuses to deploy; the driver looks genuinely shocked—as though gravity personally betrayed him—and the whole bus becomes a live demonstration of aspiration without execution.

Train stations love to boast about step‑free access too, right up until a single lift breaks and the entire network collapses like a soufflé in a thunderstorm.

Public buildings, not wanting to be outdone, contribute their own masterpieces—a ramp that leads to a door requiring the upper‑body strength of a competitive rower, a lift that reaches every floor except the one with the accessible toilet (if they have one) or the café that technically has step‑free access, provided you can navigate the interior maze of chairs, tight spaces, and the ‘disabled toilet’ (doing an impression of a broom cupboard), in your wheelchair

The most impressive part? None of this is rocket science… we’re not asking for teleportation, anti‑gravity wheelchairs, or a personal entourage of accessibility elves. Just ramps that work, lifts that don’t break, doors that open, and spaces designed by people who have to use a wheelchair every day of their lives!

Accessibility shouldn’t be a rare delight. It should be the default setting. Until then, satire might be the only tool sharp enough to point out the absurdity of calling something “inclusive” when half the population can’t even get through the door!