The problem with getting home on Tuesdays for a large chunk of the year is the Chelsea games. Today, however, it was the Liverpool fans rather than the Chelsea fans cramming themselves along the tube platform and then into every corner of the tube. They were a loud bunch as well - and once we were shut in the tube with them, they got even louder.
The songs progressed from "justice for the 96" to a string of rather more profane numbers, accompanied by banging on the roof of the carriage, which started off as rather amusing, until the largest man in Liverpool - not in Liverpool at the time, obviously, rather squeezing himself into my carriage. And more specifically, into the space between my chair and the chair opposite me. Or even more specifically, between the chair opposite and on me.
Despite tucking my toes under the seat, I was in fear for my future ability to walk. And has he got into the singing, he also started jumping up and down. At which point, no only the young girl next to looked nervous.
The bloke's own mates started stepping back from the danger zone - I could see in their eyes that they were seeing their lives flash before them in the moments before the tube floor gave way and dragged us all out of the carriage and under the racing wheels below (I am perhaps getting confused with trains and planes - I am not so sure that if the floor gave way we'd all be sucked out - but where's the melodrama in him just slightly denting the floor)?
Thankfully, the train stopped at that point, ceasing his scary jumping. Thankfully also, I have retained my walking faculties. Lucky I'd say though. It was a close one.
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