Why do the wrong people travel?

Sir Noel's lyrics came to mind yesterday as How Ridiculous travelled to and from Durham- and before you pass the obvious comment, HR was travelling on a professional matter.
If only some of the other travellers had stayed way back home, as the right people do.
There was the knitting lesbian - her wool a distinctly beefy shade.
There was the loud American (is there any other kind?) taking call after call on his mobile - all of them from the USA. Imagine the rapture of the carriage upon discovering that some workmen moving a pole through his yard had knocked over a wall and damaged his avocado tree.
There was the young man patting his lips throughout his entire sandwich whilst his girlfriend read 'Goodbye, Dearest Holly'.
There was the Asian gentleman shouting 'Hello' down his 'phone from York to Stevenage.
There was drunken Kiwi (this makes a change for usually on a GNER service the drunks are of Scotch origin) who came into the coach declaiming 'This is a quiet carriage.' Could the others possibly be any louder, thought HR? Said Kiwi directed his attention at a female by the name of 'Bronwyn'. 'Do you want a beer?...'Do you play cricket?'...'I'm from New Zealand.'...'I play cricket.' Bronwyn seemed impressed - or at least had had an impression made upon her.
It all became too much for How Ridiculous. Book went down, ear phones went in and to Brokeback Mountain we were transported.
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