Maybe it's a girl thing.

You're gazing into space, you're reading you're book, you're mentally dancing your backside off to the best tune your ipod has just plucked out for you. But still he grabs your attention.

The ferret man.

And the reason he grabs your attention? He's just rubber-necked the two pram-faces shoving buggies through Rusholme's teatime traffic to the extent you're wondering whether his head can actually swivel 360 degrees.

Presumably he's not actually the anti-christ, but now you can see he's chewing gum like a speed fiend and - yes, he's actually checking out the backsides of every woman the bus passes.

You don't see Ferret Men often but someone needs to have a word with them, or smack them on the nose with a rolled up newspaper or something *it's how the vet advised us to cure my friend's poodle of his curtain lust*.

I'm guessing 95% of the Manchester female population are safe because he did look like he'd escaped from Deliverance/Strangeways/every woman's worst nightmares. But just incase - he had a cap on with GF embroidered on the back, a camouflage army jacket (essential in all urban areas I find!) and he was on a 43 bus and got off one stop after Withington.

Run for the hills ladies - if that doesn't put you off, when he got off the strange aroma of 'bottom of biscuit barrel' strangely disappeared.