It’s great when you buy a ticket and board the train to find almost every seat reserved, isn’t it? Don’t you seriously just love it? Don’t you also love how no one mentions anything about this when selling you a ticket for £84? You hustle through this Virgin train, which looks like anything but, and you collapse onto the first bare seat next to a stranger with a mouthful of Tesco’s sandwiches and you smile at her cheekily. Then quaintly satisfied you look up and you see something dreadful: a couple more Gina Yeshere’s behaving noisily in the so-called quiet zone. In fact, on further inspection there’s around two Gina’s to every train cart and they’re all behaving noisily and you rub your forehead and think of the £84 you’ve spent on this. You try to think of satisfying thoughts to stop this madness. The one that gives you the most pleasure is imagining the 536 coach service, the one you walked away from two hours ago, has been involved in a terrible motorway accident. There are no survivors and loudmouth Gina got it the worse out of all of them because she’d been seated right at the front with no seat-belt on. You call the papers up about your miracle delay in death and you go on Twitter to post a copy of the email you received confirming your seat on the coach as proof just so you can get the attention and high-fives from fellow twits. You even announce your forgiveness of the loudmouth that was in order to appear humble and get more praise. You work the system well.

You know it’s never going to happen, but you can dream. Just four hours to go!