I am in luck. The front seat on the left hand side in the direction of travel is vacant. I sit in it, at the window side, and place my feet half way up the bulkhead in front of me, in a sort of pre-emptory, proprietary territory grab to prevent anyone else from impinging on my space by sitting next to me. I am set. Bus number 88. Caught at the top of the Latchmere Road where it intersects with Lavender Hill, Clapham. Six miles and 45 minutes atop the bus until I disembark at Tavistock Square. And for the duration of that journey, I enjoy my status as the epitome of good sense, reasonableness and the backbone of the English legal system. For three quarters of an hour each morning, I am the rule of law incarnate.
The man on the top deck of the Clapham Omnibus is me.