Imagination: Making a boring life seem exciting

Here goes, my first dilemma....

Picture the scene. I'm sitting on a train, a tall, skinny (some might say lanky) blonde "lad", staring aimlessly out the window, wondering just what he should do with his life.

Bored on a train, enjoying the fact that there are no impending tasks to be getting on with, just the pleasant wait until the train reaches it's destination.

As I survey the only other passenger on the carriage, a brief thought flutters across my mind. Is he too is enjoying the break from the endless tasks of life, or doe he just want the journey to end?

Then the unforgivable happens. I catch the eye of said passenger sitting across the way and cue to me quickly averting my eyes away so that he will be totally unaware of my wondering about his inner most thoughts. Of course my haste has been my downfall and it is now quite obvious I was indeed staring. The tension builds. The train screeches to a halt at the next station, but there is no hiss of the doors to break the tension. Suddenly the reason for ipods has become all too clear. If I had one right now, simply pop it in and my own little bubble has been created. Tension destroyed. Silence broken. But of course no such luck. Instead I sit with that most unerring desire to steal one more glance at my fellow traveller, all too knowing that this would be one step too far. The tension becomes too much, something must be done.

Then I finally do it. I tap my foot, but as soon as I do it I realise my idiocy and stop. Inside my brain I'm cursing myself. How could I be so stupid! First to stare at the only person in my carriage, but then to make my own euphony. Unforgivable. I literally may as well have pulled out a fresh kipper and slapped the guy round the face with it, such is this train etiquette faux pas.

Then something most incredulous happened. A noise. A tapping noise. I of course looked down at my own feet, but saw no involuntary movement. It stopped. I looked around the carriage for the source of the tapping, but there was only one reasonable explanation. There was only one thing to do. I had to be sure. I lifted my foot again and tapped. Three taps, short and sharp. Again there was a reply, but at this point I had the luxury of viewing my fellow passenger's foot tap out the exact same sharp three taps.

I felt sick. How things had turned on their head. There was me thinking of how badly I had broken London transport's holy laws, but my crime was nothing compared with this fellow. I had looked, even made inappropriate sound, but this man, this man had tried to communicate.

There was only one conclusion I could draw. He was crazy and wanted to kill me.

Terrified I looked up at the next station. Only three stops to go. Surely I could last ten minutes with this nutter. Surely someone would get on at some point to save me.

Then, as if my own guardian angel was there to reassure me, another thought popped into my head. Maybe he liked the look of me. Wanted to be friends. It was a long shot, but I've watched enough Disney films to know that there is such a thing as love at first sight. While this thought briefly appeased thoughts about a gruesome death, the then true reality of the fact that this hairy monster opposite me might love me, hit home. Oh god, my guardian angel had let me down, while not as bad as being killed by a crazed lunatic, it was hardly the ray of hope I was looking for, in my now bleak situation.

I decided to turn for help. Obviously I couldn't call anyone, or my would be attacker would hear, but texting was still an option. It was while writing my text to a good friend, hoping for some sound advice, or at least a good self defence tip, that my next thought raced into my brain. (They seem few and far between nowadays). What if the poor guy was just the victim of an under-par hypnotist. He may well have tried to quit smoking, and come out with this horrible need to tap out beats. How implausible I hear you cry, but at last I had some hope.

The reply arrived almost instantly from my trusted, trusted friend. "Start singing and get up and dance like Fred Astaire".

Brilliant.

No Christmas card for you this year.

If of course I make it.

Get my throat slit on a train while swirling round to my very own stuttered version of "I'm in Heaven". Could you get anymore horror movie than that. No I'd have to think my own way out of this.

A look up at the beloved CCTV camera gave me the sense that this was not going to be the site of my death, I had a chance. I could lose him at Waterloo. As the train bobbed into the station I remembered back to the last Bourne movie. If only I was Matt Damon. Alas, at 6ft 7" I more than stuck out in a crowd. Everything was against me. My life started to flash before my eyes.

And suddenly from no where, Kriss Akabusi's face appears spouting the words "PMA, positive mental attitude".

There was still hope. I had to believe. All it took was good old Kriss. The train snaps to a stop and we both rise. I still don't have the courage to look him in the eye. He waves me in front of him. Of course he would, he wants to follow me. I think of Bourne, I think of Kriss, I wonder how quickly he can run.

The doors slide open, and cool air smashes into my face. The change in temperature makes me ever more alert to the danger I'm in. I leap from the train, ready to make a quick dash to safety, when I hear his death chant. "Excuse me sir!" He cries as if taunting me. I'm taken by surprise and wonder whether to turn my fast jaunt into a full out sprint, but I decide it is time to be a man. To rise to my foe. So I spin to face him, ready for the struggle to ensue. His hand is outstretched, and as thoughts of what weapon he is concealing in it, flood through my mind, I hear the words, "I think you dropped this".

My fists unclenched. My would be attacker was holding my one day travelcard in his grasp. I stared at him blankly, the very action that had got me into this mess, and the idea of the hypnotist swung into my mind again. This poor fellow. There I had been fearing for my existence, when he was in fact just the victim of a horrible hypnotic crime. Suffice to say embarrassment seized hold of my emotionally drained body, and I thanked the lovely man, before setting off for the main station.

Of course, not before doubling back a few times, like Bourne would have done. After all you can never be too careful.