The road to hell

Q. What's worse than your journey at the end of a knackering day culminating with a rail replacement bus service?

A. Finding yourself sat on said rail replacement bus service next to someone who persists in delivering down his mobile a running commentary on the half-hour-long journey for its entire duration, in the minutest detail and in an accent which continually suggests surprise and amazement: "We're just at some traffic lights. Or is it a roundabout? Ooh, a roundabout, I think. On the move again now. Yeah, I know!"

All of which begs two questions: who was the poor unfortunate on the other end of the phone for whose benefit the narrative was, and why did he or she indulge the witterings of this tedious tit rather than just hanging up?