Where do we even begin?
I left the tube station, aggressively double clicking the side of my phone to ensure that Apple Pay, custodian of my Monzo card, was ready to do its job. The expected bout of hyper self-awareness kicked in, certain I was subjecting myself to the glares of the people behind who were shouting obscenities at me in their heads. I was absolutely sure of this. I went through the ticket barriers without a hitch, unlike a man ahead who had a less fortunate experience and, as a result, our lives intersected for a few brief minutes.
Dressed in a blue suit with a carefully placed Prostate Cancer UK badge pinned at the lapel, he strolled through the station with a wide stance, and an increasing verbose rhetoric of disappointment. Without remembering his exact words, he claimed he was shocked and d...