When the library book you borrowed cheats you by having lots of empty pages at the end, instead of the final chapter of the book, or indeed an epilogue entitled "Why I sold out and she gets rescued in the end, instead of eaten by crab monsters from space", it can throw your whole tram journey into turmoil... I didn't know I was catching the 112 to Turmoil via Collins Street this morning when I got on it, but that's what happened. So I finished my book and contented myself with having bitchy thoughts about the other travellers on the tram, and that's when it happened. Bum Crack Trauma.

Some elderly - and clearly not all there - guy got on the tram wearing a pair (and I use this word loosely, because surely a pair would entail more fabric..) of those adidas type shorts, the really tight, short white nylon ones, with an elastic waistband (and I'm using those words loosely too, cause there was nothing elastic about them, and, well, that band wasn't anywhere near the waist). He stood in front of me while I tried desperately to look elsewhere. Fortunately, the BCT did not last for long (although just long enough for the image to be burned onto my retinas). And, strange as it may seem, I guess I have to be grateful, because at least I didn't have the view the woman sitting opposite me did!

Bleaarrchhh..