A teenage girl is on a train through Peckham, nursing a bottle of lucozade. Her feet are up on the seats, protecting her little travelling realm with traditional gusto. and she’s on hands free.

I become aware that she’s on the phone to her friend James. She’s mainly on about her diet, as both her and her dog are on special measures, for reasons unclear at this stage. For obvious reasons, I’m only party to one half of the conversation.

“I had a macdonalds.”

“I weren’t meant to cos of the swelling and stuff innit. But you know me I was like fuck this, I need proper food.”

“They were all there with their takeaways and all I had was a tin of soup, it was a fucking joke.”

“I know, it takes the piss. ”

“I couldn’t have a drink cos of my tongue. It takes the piss.”

“He was bare drunk at my nan’s. I was like, eat something, you joker. If you’re sick I’m not cleaning it up.”

“Mad, innit.”

“How are you holding the phone and riding a bike?”

“Yeah so can I but down a hill, no way man.”

She stares out the window.

“It’s fucking raining.”

“I used to like going out in the rain but I’ve fucking changed, man. I can’t do it no more.”

“You joker. You idiot.”

They talk about crushes, and flirting at the bingo her nan took them to the previous night.

“Stephanie well fancies you, she was touching your arm.”

“I must have bit my tongue ten times. I was trying to eat and I kept hitting the bar.”

Oh. Braces?

“You’ll need ID.”

“No, that’s not ID, you idiot.”

“Joe says tattoos are fine. I can get those done any day of the week.”

“She’s one of my best mates. She lives in the flat opposite Joe.”

“Shut up, she’s taken.”

“You’re bad.”

“You joker.”

“Shut up.”

“Shut up.”

“Don’t get too much of a big head.”

“Serious?”

“You joker.”