FORGET the Oscars or riding around in climate-controlled limos – what really gets me off is the thrill of mildly inconveniencing people to use the charging points on trains.
It doesn’t matter if it’s a delayed Avanti intercity or a rattling, two-carriage train between down-at-heel Northern towns, I’ll be pestering you to let me charge my devices. And you’ll have to let me.
Is it an atavistic urge to dominate the tribe? Mankind’s known love of conquest? The incredible rush of free leccy? I don’t know. What I do know is I’m not afraid to nudge someone awake to get to the USB socket.
It doesn’t matter who you are. Businessperson on a laptop, football fans cracking open cans at 9am on an away trip, student doing an essay with headphones on. I’m going to make you take part in in an odd little hunt for the sockets then leave a cable awkwardly snaked around your feet which you’ll be conscious of for the rest of the journey.
But it doesn’t stop there. I normally bring my 30m adaptor cable with four plugs too – even though a conductor said ‘This is your last chance, Miss Taylor-Joy’ and threatened to kick me off the train at Wakefield Westgate again. But that just adds a thrilling game of cat-and-mouse to it.
Ahead of every trip I pack an extra bag full to the brim with chargeable shit. By the time the refreshment trolly comes by I’m charging my electric toothbrush, smart watch, headphones, razor, Ring doorbell and Kindle.
And if I really want to take the piss I’ll whip up some smoothies in a Nutribullet and plug in my George Foreman grill and make myself a few crunchy bacon butties. There’s no law against it. Well, there is.
But what are they gonna do? Put me in prison and make everyone miss brilliant Apple TV+ films like The Gorge? I don’t think so.