Many years ago when I commuted, I was becoming increasingly exasperated by the person sitting next to me demonstrating to all and sundry that he had in his possession a mobile phone (brick at the time). I wasn�t even sure some times whether the person was actually having a conversation as much as being a poser.
I finally got the idea of packing a pair of toenail clippers in my briefcase. The day finally came when this exasperatingly tacky man sat next to me and decided he wanted to broadcast throughout the carriage how self-obsessed he was with himself. I received my cue when he started talking about share prices. I quietly opened my briefcase, pulled out the clippers, set the case on the floor, pulled off my shoe and sock and proceeded to dig and clip at my big toe. The man was absolutely aghast! He paused from his monotonous and languid soliloquy and looking down at me said in a very loud voice �Do You Mind?!� As I leant over my lap I turned my head towards him and said �revoltingly tacky, isn�t it sir? Almost as tacky as disturbing all of us rail-prisoners with your incessant droning on about your self-importance.� He shut the phone off and I immediately stopped my digit dig and put my sock and shoe back on.
I saw him again two days later as he got on the train. I couldn�t resist from saying �silence is golden� as he passed the empty seat beside me and moved to the next carriage.
Fr Bill