“Rudeness is the last refuge of the unimaginative”

A MAN comes down the aisle, munching chilli nuts and looking left and right.

I’m in seat 23a. He wrestles with luggage and nuts over my head for a while, sits in seat 23b and chomps loudly like a pony. At this stage, on the final flight of my long journey home, my antenna for undesirable travelling companions is highly sensitised. I’m panicking about having to engage in yet another conversation from which I can’t escape.

I’ve got nothing left in the tank; all sorts of elements have conspired to empty it.