One of the less attractive and welcome experiences of the commuters life is the plague of septic maggots who run or cycle to the station in the morning and then force their half naked, sweaty, smelly bodies on the rest of us who incidentally, have had the common decency to bathe before dressing. I would no more step onto public transport dripping with sweat than I would walk into a cocktail party red faced and panting. Weren't these people taught to shower after sports? It's an utter disgrace and affront to good manners not to say a threat to health and hygiene. Anyway, before I get into my stride our old friend Dirk has beaten me to it and once more holds the flag high for the ordinary decent commuter....
"I had to endure Dirty Stinky cyclist-man today who sat steaming in the seat beside me in his yellow and black uniform while tucking into his energy gel.
I know about these awful things from running, which by the time you get round to plucking up the courage to get one down have warmed to,(your), body temperature and are horribly cloying. They come in various flavours and the vanilla waft added to road-grime and his rancid aroma was almost too much to bear. Despite the chilly morning I was in no mood for his radiated musk and so my private fantasy which involved bundling him out into the dark next time the doors opened was effectively derailed when a propos of nothing at all he suddenly turned to me and asked very politely if he could read a bit of my paper.
With this mild interaction my murderous thoughts seemed churlishly over-the-top and to absolve a sense of guilt I thought I'd show an interest in how far he'd ridden that morning.Ten miles apparently, part of a fitness campaign he'd started in the summer and would continue day in and day out until the Spring. Definitely a driving ban then. It was all I could do not to enquire if it was all in the same kit."