Many months ago I assumed, with the breakup of a relationship I was in with a girl that lived in London, that I might never use my Oyster card again. Admittedly, this wasn’t the toughest part of that relationship collapse to deal with, but I thought I’d hold onto the good ol’ Lobster card just in case.

I voyaged down to the big smoke the other night to watch a comedy gig, and a return ticket (without underground but using my Oyster) was cheaper than a day travelcard. The Lobster would get another run out after all.

This meant a mini-lottery would be in store for me. There was money on the old boy – I knew that much. But I didn’t know how much. Joyously, I tapped him onto the machine thing, and it revealed the princely sum of £8.95. That’s like a ‘win the beauty contest’ card in Monopoly – but I’m not likely to win a real one of those. When you have £naff all to your name, this feels like a windfall.

It allowed me to procure a vastly overpriced pint from one of the alcohol purveying establishments of Shepherd’s Bush without needing to get out a loan, before I merrily ambled over to the Shepherd’s Bush Empire for the comedic entertainment. This is presumably what Phil ‘Tuffers’ Tufnell would label “happy days”.