Chivalry is dead.

Are any modern knights brave enough to resurrect it?

‘La belle dame sans merci’, Sir Frank Bernard Dicksee,

'Excuse me please, would you mind moving your bag so I can sit down?’ I asked.

He took a slug from his can of lager, looked me in the eye and said no.

Picture the scene: the London Underground, steaming hot, a crowded carriage, a long day spent in heels, and a spot of sciatica. Before me was a muscular, able-bodied man, probably in his twenties. I didn’t ask for his seat. I politely asked for his suitcase’s seat.

I thought he was joking. But he looked at me, unsmiling. ‘What, really?’ I queried. ‘This is a priority seat for luggage,' he told me. He was on a priority seat for inconsiderate oafs.