I glare at the balding little man with a red nose sitting opposite. It is bad enough to be stuck in a stationary train without having to listen to this incessant sniffing.
I’ve had enough.
“Excuse me,” I say. “I had to listen to your wretched sniffing for the last hour. Can’t you just blow your nose?”
Other people in the carriage turn and gawp. He stares at me, unrepentant, and slowly wipes his nose on his sleeve.
I’ve made my point. I sit back satisfied. But then I feel an irrepressible tickle growing within my nose.