Sleep my arse

It's becoming something of a bore. These upper level sleepers on the train. Every single time I move my head, perhaps to speak to a friend below, perhaps to see where my pen has just landed. Perhaps to buy a chai.

Whenever I lean over at all, if I my head moves ever so slightly, I have a tendency to twat it violently against the bafflingly shaped light fitting. Why they (Indian train manufacturers, of course) felt it necessary to make and install a light fitting so cruel, so pointy, so damn SHARP, at the precise angle that any head is likely to legitimately argue for space with in any given 24 hour period. Why? I will never understand.

This is supposed to be sleeper class. No one's sleep is positively improved by a blinding shock to the temple. No one will rest easier while suspended six feet above the ground, clutching onto their luggage on a rickety train hurtling through India at night with a throbbing red lump hanging off their forehead.

I mean I can see the wisdom of installing light fittings. Don't read this wrong. I'm not against light, per se. Light has proven particularly useful over the years. It can be very illuminating.

What I am strenuously against (and you can quote me on this) is the installation of sharp-ass light fittings in direct proportion to the movement of one's mind.

That's all.