I have been in Manchester for a few days with work, and what I have learned, above all else, is that Manchester’s tram system carries an altogether better class of mentalist.

In the many many trips I have taken on London’s tube network in the last ten years I have seen drunks, tramps, mutterers, fat people, students, Americans and even one guy who tried to get naked in rush hour.

But I have never seen someone have a conversation with the person next to them, whilst that person next to them was completely ignoring them. When the huge mentalist sat down next to the man I now understand to have been his victim, I assumed them to be friends.

“Alright ar kidda! Didn’t know you’d be on here.”

The victim just stared ahead.

“Yeah!” continued the mentalist, laughing as if he was responding to a question, “Just been out for a beer like. Now goin’ over to ma birds, though I’m not gonna tell her I’m buzzin’ man!”

This to and fro of imaginary question – response – imaginary question – response – continued for several minutes.

I caught a glimpse of terror on the victims face. I could almost hear his internal dilemma. What do you do when a six foot five shaven-headed mentalist sits next to you on a tram and starts having an imaginary conversation with you? It is not like you can get training for this type of situation (though I have not looked at the Open University prospectus for a while).  Should you just let him carry on? I mean, it’s not like he is actually forcing you to contribute, and it appears he thinks you are quite the conversationalist.  But what if he conjures up an imaginary response in which you were rude? What then?

Of course, this was his problem, not mine, although I felt a great deal better having done my bit by empathising quietly with him for a few seconds whilst avoiding eye contact with the giant Mancunian mentalist. If only everyone was as community spirited as me the world would be a better place.

I got off the tram at Sale with the one-sided conversation still going strong.

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