On the nightbus, heading back East as I once again fall asleep and this time wake up at Aldgate, this girl is jiggling.  Is she bopping to her mp3 player?  No.  She’s fairly young, and her top has ridden just over her midriff.

As she leaves the bus, maybe this is why she leaves the bus, she wets herself.  Not a dribble, but a full on cascade release through her clothes, and it falls onto the red lino of the bus floor and spreads out.  We look around at each other, suddenly alert, but then return to our private bubbles so as not to start any trouble.  But she’d just totally wet herself. That much we knew.