Commuter Spy: is this seat taken? "OK," she said in an American drawl, "I'm going to take these seats by you, and those ones over there." She gestured towards a quad of empty seats opposite. "Don't worry, you can stay," she said magnanimously. But I do want you to help me reserve these seats, OK? "Sorry," I mumbled, "that lady's reserved them." He looked at her quizzically; she stared him down. Repressing his response, he shuffled off in search of another seat. There followed by a procession of other commuters, all not believing their luck at first, all looking incredulous when turned away. "I've paid good money for my season ticket," one woman protested, under her breath. "I left work early to get a seat," said another. One man, between clenched teeth, simply muttered "selfish." But the lady stood firm. Now she was on her phone. Cindy? Cindy! I see you out the window. No, not that carriage, this one! This one! Here, the quiet one! You see? Further back... yeah, hi! Hi! She gazed eagerly down the aisle. At long last, her friends arrived: six women, loud, rosy cheeked, high spirited. "Thanks for saving the seat, buddy," she said, loudly. Couldn't have done it without you. I flushed, and gazed sheepishly around the carriage. Somewhere, a newspaper rustled. Email: commuterspy@telegraph.co.uk Twitter: @CommuterSpy