Commuter Spy: John's bad day So loud was she speaking that John - who is normally a mild-mannered man - peered over the seat and drew her attention to the sign on the wall that said "Quiet Zone." "She just carried on talking as if I wasn't there," he recalled. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. Eventually, the conversation came to an end. After a few minutes, however, it happened again. Hello, Michelle speaking? Hello? This time, however, she seemed to have said "yadda yadda yadda" rather than "blah blah blah blah." According to John, he got to his feet and stabbed his finger at the sign. She ignored him and carried on ("yadda yadda yadda"). It was only after the third conversation, when a man from the other end of the carriage strode over and joined forces with John, that she caved in and hung up. I sympathised. But there was more where that came from. Last week, John had an altercation with a man on the train that almost led to fisticuffs. It was a late train and he was tired. He sat down, only to see that the seat next to him was occupied by a pair of trainers. Perhaps, John said, he shouldn't have let it get to him. Perhaps he should have just accepted that society is going "down the pan," and that this sort of behaviour is no longer frowned upon. But instead, he caught the man's attention and gestured to his feet. The man shrugged John off and returned to his phone. Undeterred, John caught his attention again. "You shouldn't have your feet on the seats," he said. It's where other people sit. The man removed one earphone from his ear. "Mate," he said, "if you don't shut up, I'll iron you out." Then he replaced his earphone, and didn't hear John's response: "Why? Do I look wrinkled? The platform felt chillier than ever. John laughed like a drain, a note of bitterness in his voice. Email:commuterspy@telegraph.co.uk