Bum wars ...

... I could not be descried as a svelte, wee-slip-of-a-thing by any means but, so far, I manage to confine my bum to one seat. Even with those mean skinny seats on the light rail, I do not spill over.
You could not say the same for quite a few of my fellow commuters. Like the corpulent be-suited gentleman who got on this morning. I shall call him Mr Lard-Arse McFattybotbot.
He sat next to me and I immediately felt the pressure, the warm, meaty pressing for more space, that space being my seat.
“Up with this I shall not put”, I thought to myself, and firmly sat my ground.
He was insistent, I was squeezed, if I’d have stood up there would have been a pop, resembling that of a cork from a bottle.
And so it was for the journey, push, shove, jostle, press … this is bum wars.
Also, it was pizza night last night, smoked chicken breast, capsicum jam & semi-hard mozzarella.