Ever sat next to a nutter on a train who insisted on talking to you when all you wanted was to sit quietly with Heat magazine? Well, this is a play for you, taking that socially awkward situation and magnifying it into nightmarish proportions.

The scene opens with Aled Roberts' stuffy businessman settling down into a train compartment (ah, those were the days), opening his shiny briefcase and happily getting on with a spot of work. His peace is disturbed by a scruffily-dressed, hyperactive and distinctly odd young man (Matthew Jones) who natters on incessantly, failing at first to elicit any kind of response from his taciturn fellow-traveller.

The young man seems harmless enough, if extremely irritating, until his Frank Spencer-like immaturity turns into something far more threatening…

This is a slight piece, which raises interesting questions about personal space, class, power, humiliation and fantasy, but leaves these issues hanging in the air without saying anything particularly original or striking about them. It is well-acted by two talented students who are confident and convincing in their roles, giving us one very funny scene as well as tense moments.

One small complaint, though: in a play set in the 1960s - references to shillings, and complaints about the nationalisation of the railways (ah, those were the days indeed) - it was an unnecessary anachronism to have an actor wear a digital watch. Call me picky, but…

An interesting play, and at only forty five minutes long it's well worth going along to make up your own mind. You'll be out in time for a cheap pint in the Goose - but a word of warning: if you're going home on the bus, be careful who you sit next to.

George Tew, 28.01.04