"Excuse me?" he says, in an accent I immediately recognise as French. By stopping, I've already excused him, I guess, so I don't reply. He goes on: "Are you gay?" I'm confused... Why would he be asking? Is he a homo or a homophobe? Is he going to kiss me or punch me on the nose?
Commuting is a dull, necessary evil only a few of us can avoid. Usually, I work from home, the full journey from bed to office via bathroom taking around 90 seconds. But, on landing myself a new contract in a suburb of London, I am to rejoin the rat race I'd so fondly missed.
So how bad of a Twitter crush whore are you? Well I have calculated five different scientific levels that you may be in right now. Judge for yourself.