Oh, how easy it is to be reduced to the lowest common denominator. There is nothing like a train journey to bring out the worst in people. Somebody elbows you in the back with their backpack. Somebody else hugging their briefcase to their knees makes a fuss when you ask to take the seat next to them. A holidaymaker has the sheer gall to put their suitcase on a seat when the rest of the carriage is standing. Oh, how we regulars look down in anger.

But that squished environment also brings out the best in us. For all our Daily Mail reading, Middle England angriness, we’re actually a pretty civilised bunch, to my mind. What unites us all is the sentiment that the commute is a pretty dispiriting, dehumanising experience, wouldn't you agree?

To rise above it takes quite an effort of will. On the 20.12 from London Bridge one night last week, I looked around at the volume of people on the train, and not a word in anger was spoken. Sure, the carriage as full. And sure, some people had to stand. But nobody waded in. I’m sure many of us were stewing quietly, spoiling for a fight if anyone provoked us (or maybe we are all just so ground down by our experience that we’ve lost the energy to complain). It was a sight to behold, though. We all sat quietly, trying to… nay, succeeding in maintaining our dignity.

We weren’t in Haiti, we weren’t in Darfur; this may be hideous, we were thinking in our collective silence, but however bad this may be, we’re lucky. We are the lucky ones.

And hey, if it all gets too much, there’s always an illegal seat in First Class...