The man behind me has been talking on his phone for two and a half hours non-stop...

... giving me yet another reason to hate the mobile phone and love email.

I am morphing into one of those crabby old people you used to regret the
day the telephone was moved from the howling icy wastes of the hallway
into the living room.

Ah - a pause - he lost the signal. He's redialling.
And again.
No
Yes
He's reconnected.

Oh ffs moron, no one in this carriage is interested or impressed by your
minute by minute commentary on the non-events in in your property
negotiation.
We can all tell that you are not doing business, just talking to fill
the ghastly emptiness and impotence of your existence.

I hope your ear is thoroughly microwaved before we reach Durham, and
falls off with a faint flopping bacon-y sizzle at Newcastle.