Yesterday I headed off to Leeds to meet up with an old University friend and to have a meal and a chin wag.

I was, of course, early. So I headed for the Lego shop to stand and admire things I really want but really cannot afford. And be asked, multiple times, if I was ok with what I was looking at.

Now, I don’t mind being asked that if I’m in some super-complicated shop. But the Lego store… I mean, yes it’s great customer service but, looking at the people working there, I’ve been putting Lego together longer than they have been alive. I feel the same way when I’m asked if I’m “ok there” in video game shops. Generally, I’m more “ok there” than the people behind the till.

Anyway, I parked the Lego kits I really want in my mind palace, met up with Elise and had a lovely chat and catch up with her.

And when it came to coming home, I decided to catch the bus from the stop near my old office. For old time’s sake. And because it meant I didn’t have to get the train into Huddersfield, and faff around getting out.

I got to the bus stop to find myself the only person heading to Huddersfield.

And then a man showed up who, for want of a better expression, triggered my spider-sense. He arrived at the bus stop and immediately lay down on the little metal bench seat to have a rest. After all, waiting for a bus can be tiring.

And then he had a wee into a beer bottle.

And not discretely. Not, say, in the little alcove formed by the fire door of the BT offices. Not round the corner on Sovereign Street, where there are any number of nooks available for a crafty piss.

He remained in the bench.

He undid his belt and his trousers,

And basically stick his penis in the top of a bottle.

By this point I was staring so intently at the digital timetable display that it’s a wonder the orange LEDs haven’t burnt their way into my retinas.

The thing that upset me the most, though, was that when he finished, his willy didn’t make an audible “pop” noise as it was removed from the bottle.