Maybe it was my new noise-cancelling headphones that gave me the courage to act, even if they make me look like a psychotic cyberman.
Maybe it was residual irritation at an article by Tony Travers, wrong-headedly claiming that no-one cares about Boris' pledge to reintroduce the Routemaster.
Maybe it was just that I'm beyond fed-up with the roadworks on Bishopsgate, which make the journey between the penultimate and final stop at Liverpool Street an arduous, tooth-grinding twenty-minutes-if-you're-lucky nerve-shredder. Who can say? But the worm finally turned.
What you do is this. While your bus is stationary, next to a pavement, politely ask the driver to open the door. When he refuses, reach up and press the red button marked DO NOT PRESS THIS BUTTON. THIS BUTTON WILL OPEN THE DOORS. Exit via the open doors. Breathe deep the heady air of liberation from one small claw of the control-freaks' machinery.
But what if you'd been hit by a cyclist? an open-mouthed colleague asked in horror. Well. I somehow managed to leap onto and off of Routemasters for about a decade without once flinging myself into the path of anyone else. What Professor Travers doesn't understand is the symbolism of the Routemaster. It's not (just) that they were and must again be a London icon. They were also a subconscious signal that we are adults and can make our own decisions. They must be returned to our streets. I don't need anyone else to tell me when it is and is not safe to step onto a pavement.