As I’m just pulling away from a stop, a huge woman of indeterminate age decides to run – if you can call it that – right across my path in order to make me stop so she can clamber on. Inconceivably, this plainly dangerous act is a familiar strategy of getting a bus to stop, most often employed by those who can move about as freely as a steamroller driven by Dawn French

She is easily 25 stone and sports a wispy moustache, a whopping fat hat and a brace of mossy teeth that resemble a broken graveyard. She is also clutching an utterly decimated Mars Bar in one meaty fist and, as she hauls herself on, the following conversion ensues

To whit:

Me: You do realise that what you did was really dangerous?
Fat woman: (Gasping like an asthmatic hippo) What?
Me: What you just did. Running across the front of the bus as it was moving
FW: (Angrily) Well, if you don’t want me on your bus…
Me: But…
FW: I’ve got enough problems without this
Me: I can see that
FW: Eh?
Me: Look, it’s up to you: on the bus or off it is fine. I just don’t want you under it
FW: Are you being funny?
Me: Apparently not
FW: (Unwrapping a second Mars Bar) Got enough problems (grumbling)