Had a moment of acute embarrassment after stumbling into one of those compartments that are a second class version of first class.

What I mean by that is a group of six seats in their own enclosed space, but without the arm rests and antimacassars.

Had noticed from platform that this particular compartment was empty, except for businessman from Burgess Hill, and so thought I would enter and enjoy a bit of space, freedom from leaking headphones and the rare opportunity to actually get a seat in one of said carriages.

Unfortunately, I had not noticed that Burgess Hill was, in fact, not alone. On entering carriage, I found him seated opposite a middle-aged woman, whose attempts to disguise her middle age with badly-executed blonde highlights and gallons of make-up were not helped by the fact that a few pounds of extra flesh were spilling out from between the black leather bra and black leather mini skirt she was sporting, over her black fishnet stockings and stilettos.

As I walked in, she moved her possessions on the adjoining seat (presumably in order to make room for me). On closer inspection, possessions consisted of matching black, leather-clad, mobile phone and what can only be described as a black leather whip.

By the time all of the above had registered, I was too far into the carriage and into my seat to mutter excuses and leave, without risking causing Ms Whiplash embarrassment. Uncertain whether Ms Whiplash had a planned assignation with Burgess Hill in carriage or whether he, like self, had stumbled across her entirely by accident and she, like us, was simply making her way home from work.

Whatever the truth of the matter, Burgess Hill appeared embarrassed to have been found in not yet compromising position and buried himself with briefcase stuff in a not wholly convincing way. Meantime, I wondered how long I should stay before pondering aloud whether I might go and get a drink in the buffet - creating opportunity to make excuses and go.

The more I thought about it, the more unlikely it seemed that Burgess Hill had a prearranged meeting with Ms Whiplash. After all, although it was an off-peak train, if I'd come into the carriage then it was only a matter of time before someone else joined as well - or the guard came along for a spot of ticket inspecting. But, on the other hand, perhaps the possibility of being caught was part of the thrill?

I'd just given Burgess Hill the benefit of the doubt and opted to believe the 'he had simply happened upon Ms Whiplash' option when the tune for Patricia the Stripper started up, from within the confines of her black leather mobile phone case.

The ensuring conversation saw me muttering my excuses and making a swift exit to another part of the train.

It ran along the lines of: "Hello, yes, Blonde Betty speaking. . . Yes, I do that but spanking's a bit extra. . . Yes, I think I can fit you in today. I'm with a client at the moment but I'll call you back in while, love. OK?"

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.