Beard envy.

ENGLARGED

"Can I interest you in any of these dairy milks?"
"Nah, cheers, just the paper and the water"
"It's 60p cheaper if you get The Telegraph as well"
"Ah, right, okay- well you've scanned it, I guess I can just sandwich it in The Independent, haha, nah, I'm not that bad"
"here's your change"

I walked off, holding the front page to my chest, heading towards the gate where the Megabus was waiting to compress my body for the next three hours.

I flumped down and put the papers and all their slippery inserts on the seat next me as a barrier- none o' yees are sittin next to me.

I'd read through the my first paper by the time we'd finally got into the centre of Dunfermline. Hang on, I thought, Dunfermline? But that means...I'm on... the LONG bus. What fresh hell was this?

What fresh hell, indeed! At this point Margaret and her friend, behind me, started to pipe up, complaining about the slow traffic; "surely there's a quicker way than this", "aye you'd imagine aye", "this is just ridiculous", "Aye ridiculous, aye..."

A seething rage slowly coursed through me. Not only was I accidentally on the long bus, not only was there no bin for my chewing gum which by now tasted like it had been sooked on by everyone else on the bus before I got a shot, and not only were Margaret and her pal babbling on inanely on the seats behind me but the only bloody paper I had left was The Telegraph!!

It's not as if I'm even that political, or anything, but have you ever tried reading that paper on the Megabus? It's like trying to open a to scale map of the world in a public toilet. It's so big and so close to your face it feels like Kate Middleton is actually sat next to you; ooh, nice dress! I wonder how much that was? Oh wait it says it there, because the basis of the article! Brilliant!

It's a size reserved for first class rail travel only. For the Business class...

...(I'm not even that political)