We'd been drinking at a birthday party in Clapham and Clapham is nice for some people.
We leave Clapham and we're on the Northern Line travelling north - as you do - and we stop just before Kennington.
There's that noise, like a truck reversing into wheelie bins. It is the Tube driver coming to terms with the train's PA system.
He announces that someone has collapsed on the platform
He says that anyone who plans to set themselves on fire (alight) should watch their step and - critically - he warns passengers at the front of the train who're sensitive to these things, not to look.
I'm just confused about why train drivers always refer to everything in third-person omniscient tense but that's just me.
Anyway, we pull into the station and sure enough, the doors open to reveal a man lying on the platform passed out in a pool of vomit. It's not an attractive look.
This couple who're sat against the window turn around to look. She gets upset so he gives her a reassuring hug. He tuts.
This really pisses me off.
At the top of my voice I say; "he's breathing so it's not a problem and the driver did say don't look - so why did you?"
They both look down.
Me, powered by five-odd Stellas; "if you know something's going to upset you why look? I'm trying to understand this?"
Chris, who's with me; "I love it when they can hear you but pretend they can't."
Me: "Yeah, and everyone else around us can hear but pretending they can't."
Chris: "No, they're all thinking, shut the fuck up.'"
Me: "They wouldn't use that kind of language, they all look so dreadfully middle class."
Everyone sits in complete silence, staring at the floor.
Waterloo's the next stop so we get off.
I'm sure she then snuggled in close to him and went "I really hate those kind of people."