My Kingdom for a Ball Gag

It's called "The Quiet Coach." I realize and, on most levels, comprehend that it's not "The Silence Under Threat of Death Coach" (although I'm thinking such an invention wouldn't be a bad idea).

A few pointers ...

If you're traveling with a child under ten, no matter how precious or precocious, he's not going to sit quietly. So please don't book a seat, or take an unreserved one, for you and your wee darling in "The Quiet Coach".

If I can hear your entire conversation and you're sitting more than 3 rows behind me then you are not playing by "The Quiet Coach" rules, It doesn't matter than you're not on a mobile phone. See those pictures next to every window? The ones that show the chin and the pursed lips and the index finger raised in front of the pursed lips? That clever little drawing is telling you SHHHHHH!.

So shut the hell up. Or, if you must try to impress the woman you're sitting next to with your pretentious Oxbridge fa-fa-fahdom, then please do it at a decibel level that she can hear but we can't. Because we don't care.

If I can hear you over my iPod's noise-reducing earbuds, which is playing a calming mediation podcast (that might not be working as well as it could), then you are too loud.

If you're chatting on your cell phone for more than a 90-second emergency update ... well, we've got that covered.

Thank you. That is all.