Mind the Yap

Just cut through all the bull, yeah?

Do you sometimes consider striking up conversations on that very topic with the friendly-looking big bloke who's opposite you reading a book?

Please don't.

I think your heart is probably in the right place, just about. But your heart being in the right place doesn't make your assumptions any less flawed, or you any less annoying.

I once thought like you; I thought I had the secret to life's ills.

That if only repressed urban people could loosen the chains of conformity and be, like, their natural selves, then we could share common experience and increase the peace across the planet.

I was wrong, and so are you.

Of course it's nice occasionally to strike up a conversation with a stranger.

Perhaps (ladies) you want to know where she got her fringe cut, or you ask for directions and it grows into an amiable chat.

Nor do I mean that one should hesitate for a second to help a fellow traveller, or to offer assistance even when there is a strong possibility you could end up embarrassed.

So if a lady looks pregnant, you must offer her your seat, even if she may just be a bit tubby and end up hating you for asking. That's the risk you're taking for altruism.

But to think we should all talk away together, getting to know one another as we rattle between stations - and to act on that thought by aggressively chatting at people about how no one ever speaks to each other - well that's just rude.

The conspiracy of shush-time that rules in most carriages across the land is a mark of, and one of the true joys of, civilisation.

Here we are, 35 people in a confined space, on the way to a workstation or a dreary party, on the way from a messy flat or an argument with a housemate or some intense lovemaking.

In a city of six million people, it's hard sometimes to find peace, and when there's no peace at home or at work or with your friends (and when is there?), it's important to have some time to think to yourself.

Some of us on the carriage know this. We are using this rare opportunity for idle reverie - to stare out of the window, if there is one. Or to let the thoughts of the day find an order in our mind.

But not you.

You think we should be maximising every minute on earth, taking every chance to talk to other humans in case we miss out on some wonderful "experience". You are like a Big Brother contestant. When you go home you want to talk about the "incredible journey" your day has been.

Of course you should be interested in the outside world. But sometimes you need moments of quiet reflection.

And in this loud and awful world, the silent collusion of a commuter train is perhaps as close as you'll get to monastic happiness.

So shut up.

Also see mirror.co.uk/dan-bourke