All I’m asking for is coherence of abuse

This morning, on the way up to my desk, I bought a croissant. In doing so, I immediately penalised almost everybody who sits anywhere near me, because I had one and none of them did. And I didn’t even feel particularly guilty about it. I’m a right bastard, me.

And that’s not all. I came into work by Tube, using my Oyster card. In doing so, I now realise I was penalising all those people out there who would be just as good at doing my job as I am, but can’t afford the £2 to get to Wapping. If I had any decency, any soul, I’d forgo Transport for London altogether, and my bike (which I penalised bikeless people by buying), and walk to work, thereby creating a level playing field. But I don’t. A bastard, like I said.

Still, it’s swings and roundabouts. The other guy on my desk, Ed Smith, is a dapper sort of gent, forever turning up to work in tailored suits and intriguing tweedy things, which penalises me because I’ll often come in looking like I’ve slept in a bin.