Excuse me love, there's something on your back!

There are people, mainly young management consultants, whom by the nature of what they do, have to carry lots of shit about with them.

If after all you are going to sit in front of someone who knows what they are talking about, write it down, repeat it and both bill them and build a career on the back of so doing, you have to have lots of shit right?

So, this week I went to Sheffield on the train. Took my aisle seat in the First Class carriage and settled down with my "free cup of coffee" and some music - Florence & the Machine if you really must know.

Along come two young management consultants. Now as I have described, they have to carry a lot of shit, and essentially, the more junior the management consultant, the greater the amount of shit they have to carry. Partners in consulting firms travel with not much more than a hand-made suit, the keys to their Aston Martin and a Tiffany money clip with some cash and an Amex.

I concluded therefore that these two were junior, their volume of shit, carried as usual in huge back-packs, was massive.

Girl in front, boy behind.

Girl in front and boy behind deep in some bullshit conversation, no doubt designed to show off how clever they were.

Every time the bloody girl went to show off to the boy, she half turned and on so doing, whacked a sitting customer on the head with her backpack, including me.

Peter: Excuse me love, but you have got something on your back.

Bloody Girl (swings round to talk to me and thus hits another person in the head): Ooh, thank you, what is it?

Peter: A fucking great backpack, can't you feel it? Every time you swing round you hit someone with it.

And to think that one day soon these pillocks will be sitting in front of me at £2k a day telling me how to do my job. When it comes to that, I'll pack my own backpack full of bricks and jump off of a bridge!