At about 5pm on the 11th of November the tube station at Victoria was packed with silent passengers. Amid the crowd I spied a small fat man in a baseball cap, who gave off the agitated aura of those who are mad. He was carrying a bottle of strawberry Yop and moved with darting eyes. He went to stand next to a smart and moderately attractive businesswoman in her mid-thirties. He then began to sing at the top of his voice, in a rising scale: â€œM-I-C-K-E-Y-M-O-U-S-E, Mickey Mouse!â€ With the spelt name being yelped excitedly in increasingly strangled fashion as his vocalised madness looped in public, for all to ignore.
After perhaps five spellings he got aboard a District Line train. As it pulled away an exhausted-sounding Asian man began to announce train details over the Tannoy. I vaguely expected the microphone to be snatched form his dull lips and “M-I-C-K-Eâ€¦” but it was not to be.
â€œAt least he was having fun,â€ I said to my friend, after the madman had gone.
â€œHe had his Yop,â€ my friend agreed.