Speaking of letters pages, the free afternoon paper is filled with the loony skritchings of busybody commuters, dutifully noting each time a fellow passenger picks their nose or farts (I kid ye not). I wish I could say that I no longer bother with the letters page but I can't seem to look away.
I do have to raise an objection to one disgruntled grunter's rant though: he was complaining about the number of women wearing knee-high boots! I mean, fuck, come on man, what are you going to complain about next: the juicy taste of freshly ripened peaches? the gambolling of spring lambs? the orange glow of sunset?