Despite the appearance of this site, I am a very kind and considerate person at heart. Unless I take a dislike to you, in which case you’re, err fucked, basically.

My generosity of spirit sees me undertake regular good deeds, a common one being my willingness to give up my seat on the tube or train to someone more in need than I. Pregnant women, old people, gingers. I do not discriminate when it comes to the needy. It is important that we think about those people who are not as fortunate as ourselves either through age, disability or hair colour.

Some trains even provide helpful signs to remind the people who are not as considerate as me, that the seats they are occupying are designated for those with a greater need.

The other day an elderly chap got onto my train home during rush hour. He was old and shriveled and had the bandiest legs I’d ever seen. At first I thought someone had dressed up a monkey in old mans clothes and released it onto the train. He stood by the door, looked around at the packed carriage and then directly at the young guy in one of the designated priority seats, who completely ignored him whilst engrossed in his book.

He then continued to ignore the old monkey-man despite my glare burning an imagined hole in the top of his head. James Patterson’s ‘London Bridges’ must a fucking riveting read.

From a few seats further down, I stood up and offered him my place, which he took gratefully with a “Thanks Sonny”. This is, I believe, the first time that sentence has been used since Cher’s ex-husband skied into that tree.

So, after getting up I went and stood next to the Priority seat. Not that I expected him to move for me of course, as I am neither old, disabled or ginger, and I was not walking like a monkey in a suit.

In fact, he probably recognised me as the virile athletic individual that I am, and decided that ignoring me was probably the best way to convey that he was aware of this fact, whilst also avoiding an embarrassing scene. He was right.

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