Once upon a time there were different classes on the train, first, second, third, cattle. That's mostly gone and probably a good thing too. Solidarity and all that.
But I think there is a place for two new classes on urban public transport:
Mad and Non-Mad
It would be a separate carriage for all those types you see on the busses and trains to have their own space, to avoid the stares of the non-mad customers. Or more accurately for the non-mad customers to avoid the mad stares.
A place for the lady in her fifties with big plastic earrings and pigtails and the slightly unnerving twitch. A place for the Aboriginal lady carefully fiddling with her radio so she can get that static tuned in just right. A place for the gentleman in shorts and singlet and balaclava to have a nice sit down. A place for the chap who has carefully, over many years, and with great diligence managed to cultivate a personal body odour that could strip the armour-plating off a battleship. A place for the bloke in the corner scribbling down notes for his blog posting.
Oh that's me.
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