Every now and then I can't afford the tenner for a Weekend First upgrade. And travelling standard on a train isn't *that* bad. Except...
I found a seat. Opposite a single mother, with her brood. Three of them. All howling, clambering, spitting crayons. One, dressed as a ballerina, stood on top of the table all the time, trying to out squeal her siblings whilst wetting herself in a constant trickle down onto the table.
Her name was Sky.
Never ever name children after a digital television channel.
(Although, if I owned a kitten, I would call him Babestation)