Diary: Speaker's Corner.

God I hate London Underground. Yes, I know that it's more environmentally friendly than the car and it's sure as hell quicker than daring the A4 tailback. But it doesn't get much worse than finding yourself squeezed between two well-padded tourists with Texan twang as you realise you're going to be late again because of signal failure at Green Park.

Reading a paper's out of the question; there's no room to use my hands for the duration of the trip (luckily somebody's bag is pushed so far up my arse that every itch caused by my too snug trousers is nevertheless being dealt with).

So there I am, literally a captive audience. And how does the sophisticated, opportunistic, researched-to-the-hilt advertising industry take advantage of the one time in my day when I wish to distract myself from the awfulness of my surroundings for half an hour or so?

Badly. Yes, there are some ads inside the Tube cars, those little rectangular ones that sit on the wall above the heads of the smug bastards with seats.

And unlike almost every other ...