EVERYONE hates asking people to move out of your reserved seat. Luckily there is established etiquette for this challenging social situation. Follow these steps to the letter.
Put off the issue
In your desperate desire to avoid confrontation, wander further down the carriage having strangely decided to check there isn’t another seat 45J. Gosh, what a surprise, there isn’t, and you’ll have to ask them to move. Embolden yourself not with courage, but the thought of standing all the way to Crewe.
Do a rapid risk assessment of the seat thief
Calculate the potential aggro involved in reclaiming your seat. Seat bandits fall into two categories:
Low risk: Nice old pensioners; student girls; anyone reading a book
High risk: Snarky teenagers; people who resemble extras from The Football Factory; gaggle of chavs with obligatory underclass dog
Suited and booted business drones can go either way. You are now fully appraised of the situation, not that it helps because you’ve still got to tell them to move.
Garble your straightforward request
What you’re trying to say is something polite but firm, eg. ‘Excuse me, I’ve booked this seat. Would you mind moving?’ What you will actually say is: ‘It seems [inaudible mumbling] mistake I actually my seat because… Crewe! Not your fault! So… [long pause]… 45J!’ Basically if you sound like a Hugh Grant character having an aneurysm, you’re hitting the right note.
Discover you’re a prejudiced bastard
As the teenage ‘gang’ you assumed were all carrying knives to stab you with immediately vacate their seats with a polite ‘Sorry mate, we just wanted to sit down for a bit’, make a mental note not to be a vile bigot in future.
The flipside of this is discovering the nice lady in her 60s you expected to move instantly is a perma-furious Daily Express-reading cow who cannot imagine ever being in the wrong and is going to argue the toss as if you just accused her of having sex with dogs.
Don’t let them use seat thief mind tricks on you
A devious seat thief will point to an empty seat and say, ‘Can’t you just sit there?’ The answer to this is: ‘F**k you and the delayed Avanti train you rode in on. I’ve paid 90 quid so I’m not having the f**king nuisance of having to move when the rightful owner of that seat gets on in 15 minutes. So no, I can’t sit there, you lazy f**king shitweasel.’ In reality you’ll just say ‘Actually I’d prefer to sit here’, but the point stands.
Have a disappointingly underwhelming argument
Due to films like A Few Good Men, you instantly gear up to a dramatic argument in which you eloquently defend your right to the seat with devastating logic and memorable turns of phrase. In reality your sole contribution to this epic battle of the wills is: ‘Well I’ve booked it I’m afraid.’ At this point your opponent will instantly cave, which is the right outcome but not as cinematic as you bellowing ‘YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH!’
Rewrite history in the retelling
We are all the heroes of our own stories, they say. When you relate the seat incident to your partner that evening, add a dramatic yet witty narration that turns it into a thrilling tale of a plucky underdog who refused to take any shit. Don’t worry if they yawn and mumble about going to bed – it was just so exciting it’s worn them out.
