The walrus who ate cheese on a train

Very tired, but wanted to do a quick word sketch on something from this evening while it is still vivid.

A man so fat he made me feel underfed barged and elbowed his way onto an extremely full train leaving King's Cross just as the doors were beeping and beginning to close and flumped into the last of an otherwise occupied quartet of seats. He had a handlebar moustache, salt and pepper and the hairs an inch or more in length, child molester's horn-rimmed glasses and his ample curves bulged under a grey T-shirt with sweat patches in the armpits and down the back. He smelled absolutely rank. Think Benny Hill with attitude.

The people in the other three seats were not pleased, the more so when he heaved a Sainsbury's shopping bag on to the excuse for a table - just a shelf, really - which was fixed under the carriage windows. I kept peeping at him while standing in the aisle with the girls, though trying to shield them from the horror. Walrus took from his shopping bag a screw-top bottle of red wine and a pint glass, decanting the former into that latter before secreting the rapidly-emptying bottle somewhere (down side of seat?). From another hiding place, he produced a Swiss Army knife and started hacking lumps from various cheeses lurking in bits of paper in the bag. Some people just don't know how to behave at all, do they? One of the great downsides of modern British railways is the absence of a guard's van where cheese-eating walruses can be conveyed without being a nuisance to other passengers. Revolting slob. Thankfully, he didn't get off at our stop.