I saw a commuter with a broken leg this morning. I don’t mean it was in plaster, I mean he’d broken it just that minute. The poor guy was lying on the pavement outside City Thameslink in obvious ‘distress’, surrounded by a discarded brief case and flight bag, clutching his left shin which had clearly snapped in two, with his foot pointing at an angle that was definitely wrong.
And these sodding London suits (male & female) were just walking by, barely casting a glance, just as they’d treat a pissed-up tramp.
As I headed over to comfort our injured friend, a young chap in jeans and a t-shirt stopped and propped him up with a bag, and got on the phone. I continued my journey into work, saddened.