Someone wrote in a blog on this site recently about the way to stop someone next to or oppposite you on a train:  you lock your eyes with everyone that passes, smile manickly and perhaps gesture towardsthe empty seat. (I feel this must have been a male blogger writing)  The theory is that fellow passengers hurry on down the train, deeply embarassed.

The problem with this strategy is that it can well lead you to getting the most insensitive, loud mouthed (into his/her mobile), the least desirable person on this or any other train squeezing next to you.  Some people rae very thick skinned and just don't get the message:  I WANT TO SIT ON MY OWN.

Anyway, the 1703 from Victoria to Brighton is not a train that you can expect empty-seat luxury, and this afternoon I didn't even bother to attempt the manic-smiling game.

At about 1655, my seat shook.  An enormous boy-man, smooth-faced and genuinely huge, squatted down ot the two seats opposite, leaving a little space by the window, so techically we were sitting diagonally to each other.  Almosy immediately Fat Boy Huge produced a family-sized kebab which he had gobbled down by the time the train began to move.  His breath was short and noisy.  He followed the kebab with some pink drink which could, or could not have been energy enhancing.

By Clapham Junction he had got halfway through a giant bag of crisps.  But he had little luggage with him.  No more food.  I deduced, correctly, that he was only travelling as  far as East Croydon.

In fact, before we got there, he was obviously already feeling peckish again, and began to whistle.