You’ve got to start somewhere.

As I was sitting at a traffic light on my way home from work, I noticed a guy on a motorcycle next to me. I wanted to roll down my window and ask him why he had chosen his helmet – it was black, with a medium-ish skull and crossbones on the back.

I wondered if he’d chosen it because it said he was ‘dangerous’. A rebel. A pirate. Deadly.

Because if that was the reason, he might want to rethink the Crumpler Messenger Bag he had slung over his shoulder.