#0102. HAVING TO GO FOR A CRAP NEXT TO SOMEONE WHO I NOW KNOW FOR A FACT IS A PRETTY KEEN GOLFER.

When it comes to toilet cubicles, I prefer to keep the whole thing anonymous. I'm not in there to make friends. I don't want to see their face, I don't want to hear their voice, I don't even want to see their shoes poking under the wall. The point is -- I'm not interested in getting to know the person next door.

So you can imagine my disgust when I very recently had to go for a crap next to someone who quite obviously plays golf.

It actually made me wretch, thinking of his golfy little frame, squatting there next to me. I mean, in the name of toilet cubicle confidentiality, would it have killed him to have taken his clubs in with him?

#0101. THE WAY THE MAN WHO SAT NEXT TO ME ON THE TRAIN LAST NIGHT ATE HIS PEANUTS.

Now, either: A) I've become so pathologically crabby that right now the only way I could conceivably make it through an entire day without wishing death on another human would involve me wearing two eyepatches, a pair of earplugs and a bodysuit made of solid lead. Or: B) This man really does have the most aggravating peanut-eating action in the history of humankind.

I'll let you decide...

(Wait for it... wait for it... wait for it... Boom! There it is.)