Bus vs Moped
I shall call him Mark Lucas, for that twas his name and he was a rather rotund lad who had saved up and bought himself a moped.

Now given Mark's size, the fact that moped's aren't really designed for speed and his permanent choice of loose fitting Reebok shellsuit top (which acted as a wind-brake a drag car would be proud of), Mark would rev past us standing at the bus stop every morning to much laughter.

The bus would arrive, perhaps as much as 5 minutes later and yet we'd still overtake him by the time we left the village.

One day though Mark saw an opportunity to re-overake as the bus slowed for the next bus stop. The months of laughter would stop, oh yes, you could see it written all over his visor covered face. The trouble for Mark was that he had only managed to close the gap on the bus because he was caught in it's slipstream and when he pulled out to go around us he practically went backwards.

The laughter didn't stop for Mark, although he never did try to overtake the school bus again.
(Galahad is out of his gourd on yellow bentines, Sat 27 Jun 2009, 6:38, 1 reply)

Long long time ago... in a Northern City next to Salford
I had been doing a most wonderful weekend of class A and a young strumpet, but alas, Monday had arrived I now needed to be sat shaking at my desk in the city. I'd managed to get from her flat to the north side of town, but now I needed to get further south. I was sweaty, and my vision was impaired, and I couldn't really work out where I was. So I did what anyone else would do in this situation - follow someone who looked like they knew where they were going.

This worked well. I picked someone and followed them. When they stopped at crossings and such, I stopped. When they started walking, so did I.

This carried on for sometime, when I was in the middle of a road following my brain donor, when I noticed something orange in the corner of my eye, and slight knock on my left hand side, and my vision was tilted through 90 degrees.

Confused, it took a moment or two to realise that I had been hit by a bus, and was now on my side in a wet road, looking up at the front of a big orange and white bus.

I stood up like a rocket. Looked the bus driver in the face, and in true Frank Gallagher style, gave him a frantic wave of the two-fingers and a rousing cheer of the "C" word, before choosing my next brain donor and continuing on my way, unhurt but soggy.

That'd learn him to look for ravers more intently on a Monday morning, I hope.
( Piper Alpha is being a grumpy northerm bastard on:, Sat 27 Jun 2009, 6:26, Reply)

I want to die peacefully in my sleep, like my father.
Not screaming and terrified like his passengers.
( nightbuffalo needs more duct tape, Sat 27 Jun 2009, 3:55, 1 reply)

My mate
In his pre Al-Anon days, after we'd all gone out for a big pre-Christmas meal and piss-up, spent several hours trying to get home after falling asleep any time he got on the bus.

Luckily it wasn't all a blank though - the following day he was able to use the wad of night bus tickets he'd acquired to reconstruct his movements the previous evening.

Mind you, the number of times he went through Trafalgar Square that night, I'm surprised they haven't stuck a statue of him on the fourth plinth.
(Capo, Sat 27 Jun 2009, 3:29, Reply)

Got on a bus
Not many seats left, but the sideways ones behind the driver were empty, so I sat on one them. A couple of stops later and old lady with a walking stick gets on. There were no seats left on the bus and, being the good citizen I am, I offered her my seat...

"DO NOT patronise ME!" she shouted back, as she hobbled to stand further down the bus.

I didn't say anything back, I just sat there speechless, feeling guilty for offering this little old lady my seat.
( FreudianSlap, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 23:05, 4 replies)

Brixton!
Heading south along the high street of this merry hole celebrated cultural melting pot, a delightful skank of a woman boarded the bus with her buggy and baby strapped thereto, and annexed the buggy/wheelchair area.

Two stops later a man in a scooter sought to board the bus, and the driver duly lowered the ramp. Now I don't know if this is actually written down, but apparently wheelchair/scooter trumps buggy/pram for the hallowed yellow space, which the driver very politely asked Ms. Charm 2008 to vacate. Naturally, she told him get to fuck, and five minutes later there was a shouting match between the two of them, three kids at the back of the top deck shouting "Why Are We Waiting?" and general merriment.

Clearly beaten down by the unrelenting stupidity and vitriol of dole-for-brains, the driver turned to laughing scooter-man, shrugged, apologised and went back to driving the bus.

The traffic that day was pretty claggy.

The guy in the scooter, grinning from ear to ear, followed us from stop to stop, trying to get on each time, and all the while building up a small band of 'supporters', and making the harridan more and more defensive and angry.

All the way to Waterloo station...
(Good old boy just like yer grandma!, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 21:50, Reply)

My parents were hippies
Before I was born, they owned an old school bus and would drive around from event to event, doing silversmithing to earn cash (and, presumably, a good bit of weed as well). When I came along my mother insisted on an actual house, so the bus was put out to pasture on some land near my grandparent's house. We used to use it as a playhouse when we were kids. Great fun, too!
(louveciennes , Volvospotter, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 20:33, Reply)

My friend Tony...
...is a London bus driver.

He has many amusing anecdotes to tell, and here are but a few:

- When people scan their Oyster cards on the reader and it tells them they have insufficient credit to use the bus, they keep scanning it and receiving the same annoying beep and same message. Naturally, this irritates other passengers and Tony who now slackens his body so his head thumps the horn while making the charismatic 'uuunnnggggg' noise normally associated with the mentally challenged.

- A passenger attempted to board his bus but didn't have sufficient money to cover the fare. Tony's response was: "Take a seat, I don't care." When the passenger was found to be travelling without a ticket by an inspector, the passenger protested saying that Tony let him on. When confronted by the inspector, Tony spoke thus to the passenger: "I said I didn't care that you couldn't buy a ticket, and I still don't care that you've been caught."

- Once returned to the garage to park the bus at the end of his shift to see his manager in his rear-view mirror. Apparently Tony had a wee accident and didn't notice, so the manager decided to deliver Tony a missing bus panel his victim had brought in.

- Got T-boned by a Mercedes. The bus won.
(ElectricMonk is falling awake on, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 20:13, Reply)

...
A friend of mine is a bus driver. Shortly after passing his training, he accidentally clipped the back wheel of a mobility scooter that was trundling along the road in front of him and in doing so caused the mobility scooter and its undoubtedly surprised occupant to hurtle round and round in circles for a short but nonetheless hilarity inducing time.
(axlette, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 19:30, Reply)

Bus = Fail.
I live in the glorious city of Sheffield. When I first moved up here I thought "Ah Hah! Well integrated public transport network meaning I no longer need my car" so I sold the trusty vehicle.

After waiting in sleet, snow, horizontal rain, blazing sun and every other weather condition for a 95 bus chock full of semi autistic, fat, braying council types I soon began to tire of the well integrated public transport network. At this time of my life I encountered people who would look at home in the Mos Eisley cantina.

As luck would have it my position was made redundant meaning my new job enabled me to travel by tram: Oh joy of fucking joys. A 30 minute ride with a whole new cavalcade of freaks of nature including the man who looked and smelled like he'd clawed his way out of a grave, an obese man who radiated the stench of unwashed arse and three overly giddy fat crones who used to cackle and spill their awful stomachs all over the place.

Now I drive. I am cocooned in my own little sphere of tranquillity, I have my music as loud as I want, when I smoked I could puff away like a redneck whose wife was in labour and best of all there was only me - No fat, bovine spakkers, no alkies with their readybrek glow o' booze and no tick like children owned by their equally tick like council parents to contend with. I've served my time at the mast in regard to busses and the like and the hippies can fucking keep them, I'd rather eat my own shit than ever board one of the hateful, pleb carrying contraptions ever again.
(SpunkyMcSpunkbubble Diddled your nubbin on, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 19:09, 6 replies)

Not bus related...
But my roommate just facebook IMed me with this gem:

"Hey, you hear Wacko Jacko died? Yeah, I heard his final wish was to donate his liver to a child so he would always be inside one."


Too soon?
(DarkSol, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 19:08, 4 replies)

hot stuff...
And I've just remembered another one...
I grew up in the glorious council estate of Wood End in Coventry, which I'm proud to say was (is?) one the most deprived areas in the country. This was the kind of place where cops sped through, 'cos if they didn't they'd get bottled. Not the most salubrious of neighbourhoods, but interesting..
Anyway, I once happened to look out of the window of the flat we lived in and saw our local bus coming up the street, with the top deck happily burning away. The driver somehow hadn't noticed, until a passerby pointed out that he may have a problem. He stops, the passengers on the lower deck get off (there was unsurprisingly no-one upstairs) and we all watched the bus disintegrate into a pile of melted gunk and and ash.
Better than telly, was Wood End...
(thebadangel, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 19:03, Reply)

Might have been The Goons
Passenger: I'd like a return ticket please.
Driver: Where to sir?
Passenger: Back here of course, you fool!
(Big Smurf Brush me daddy-O, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 18:57, Reply)

A rare good public transportation experience
I've had most of the usual awful public transportation experiences - vomiting passengers, being felt up, violent crazies - but I'd like to mention my one truly spectacular experience on a city bus.

A weekday in downtown Chicago, a blizzard hits, temperatures keep dropping. Offices let workers out early for safe travel, but too late. I wait in vain for over two hours at the unheated, outdoor elevated train station, truly in fear for my life from hypothermia, then learn trains have stopped running due to the weather. I walk block after block to find someplace to warm up, and all I can find open is a McDonalds, where I fortify myself with several cups of scalding tea before heading back into the storm, desperate to get home. Streets are impassable, littered with stranded vehicles, nothing is moving, so taxis and buses aren't an option. I prepare to turn around and spend the night at McDonalds. Suddenly, to my shocked joy, I spot a lone bus lumbering up the street. It stops in front of me, and the bus driver opens the door, saying, "You'd better get in here." I grab the last seat, next to an elderly woman who keeps farting loudly and falling asleep with her head on my shoulder, but I don't care. I'm out of the blizzard and heading home.

The bus driver is on a mission: To get all of his passengers home safely, which he calmly assures us of throughout the trip. Time and again, streets are completely blocked by stranded vehicles, so the driver takes alternate routes, whether other streets or across the snow covered grass of Lincoln Park (yes, we go off-roading in a bus in 2-3 feet of snow). Each time he gets past an obstacle, the normally jaded, silent, city-dwelling passengers cheer, and pretty soon we start a sing-along. Rather than making passengers get out at bus stops, the driver drops off each passenger as close to his/her front door as possible.

A trip that usually takes 40 minutes took 4+ hours, and what should've been a harrowing experience turned into a party, all thanks to the bus driver who kept our spirits up, assured us of our safety, and was determined to get each and every one of us home. People can complain about the CTA all they want, but we're pretty damned lucky to have people like this working in our city.
(bunnybutt, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 17:57, 9 replies)

bus stop incident
Not my story, but a good one, nonetheless...
I used to work in an office where one of my colleagues told me her tale of woe.
She is in a bus shelter, along with many other people, waiting for the bus to arrive. It's an early summer morning, so she's wearing a nice red summery dress, high heels and underwear that matches her dress in hue (you'll see the relevance shortly). Tired, as one is in the morning, she leans back against the window in the bus shelter, only to realise that the glass isn't there as she falls backwards through the window, into the road.
Her high heels somehow manage to dig into the path surface, so she falls onto the road, banging her head, cuts the back of her legs on the remains of the glass in the windowpane and is completely unable to do anything as her feet are embedded in the tarmac. And to top this her dress has flown over her head, showing her nice matching pants to the whole queue. They very helpfully piss themselves laughing at the sight of this - because, well, it's funny.
So she's lying in the road, in a lot of pain, completely unable to recover herself in any sense, when a bus, not scheduled for this stop, halts, the driver gets out, lifts her back into the shelter and gets back into his bus and drives away. She's left standing in the bus shelter, utterly mortified and can see the rest of the queue just sniggering away.
Her bus turns up, she gets on, goes right to back of it and watches a busload of people sitting in their seats, shaking with laughter.
When she gets to work, she bursts into tears, understandably and actually had to go to hospital to get her injuries sorted. As she said later she could see the funny side, but not at the time.
(thebadangel, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 17:20, 1 reply)

Fucking Freemasons...
There is a lady who until her recent banning was a regular on my bus to and from work, Jag Kachana Singh is her name, and her family have been variously kidnapped/murdered/turned into newts by Tony Blair, the army and the Freemasons. She has leaflets to this effect, a combo of childlike scrawl, unrelated newspaper clippings and wild, stream-of-consciousness ramblings.

Last time I saw her she was loudly berating a bus driver for allowing her on, "DON'T YOU KNOW I AM BANNED FROM THESE BUSES?!"

Also once I returned from a rather heavy weekend in Leeds, asked the driver "Withington please mate" to which he responded "Where's that?" and laughed slightly too manically for me to feel comfy in his prescence. There were no other buses though, and its basically a line.

First 'un, POP etc, I need this to last another 10 mins before I can feck urf...
(Gertcha_cowson NAH MATE, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 17:20, 1 reply)

Mutiny over the busses
Edging our way along the lofty precipice, some hundred or so feet above the green grass, us we struggled against the squally wind which threatened to snatch the unwary amongst us off their footing and throw them to oblivion into the valley below.

Although the air at ground level was calm and warm, we were the highest point for miles around, a fact both sobering and a little euphoric. The gentle rolling rural landscape nestling against the colours of the early evening horizon was proving uplifting for the most world weary of souls, especially ones that had been drinking warm, nutty ales for most of the afternoon. To be at a place this precarious after six pints of fragrant Hopback ale was probably extremely foolhardy, but were it not for the maternal warmth of beery confidence we’d never have summoned the bravado to be clambering along using our fingernails for balance. We got to the halfway point and stopped, looking down at the road snaking below us as the people of the village and visitors alike went about their business.

In truth, we didn’t have much time to ponder, for our lofty vantage point was in fact a red brick leviathan, a mile long viaduct whose sole purpose was to allow the passage of a lonely railcar back and forth over the rural landscape every hour. It was Beer Festival week, three hundred yards away lay a sleepy Victorian railway depot which played host to the beers and good people whom we were enjoying in equal measure a few minutes before. The stubby train wasn’t our concern though, for we were actually waiting for a bus.

“Here he comes” said Scott, keener of eyesight than myself or Nomis.

A moment or so later I piped up.

“I can seem him now, he’s getting closer”

As the green single-decker rounded the corner the tranquillity of our vantage point was vandalized by the uncouth clatter of a diesel engine.

“Wanker” said Nomis. We nodded sagely in agreement.

“Ready lads… On the count of three…” said I

As I began to count down, the three of us simultaneously unzipped and took careful aim.

“Fire!”

In spite of the dimming evening light, I could make out the look of disgust on the face of the angry, mutton-chopped, lycanthrope behind the wheel. I caught his eye momentarily and bathed in the smug glow of victory as his lip curled in impotent disgust. There was no way he could avoid our combined vengeful deluge, all the snarling, Teddy-boy arrogance in the world couldn’t have changed his outcome one iota, I chucked to myself and hoped that some of our stream dribbled through the open driver’s window and onto his Brylcreemed head.

That’ll learn you, mate. That’ll learn you.
With that, we zipped up our flies and carefully made our way back to the welcoming sanctuary of the Shunters Arms, having settled a debt of honour that had been outstanding since last year, when the same bus driver had condemned us to a soaking three mile walk home in the dark.

“Fuck off you lot. You’re too pissed to get on my bus” my arse.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 26 Jun 2009, 17:14, 5 replies)

If...
...I ever have the misfortune of suffering from impotence in my advancing years (some way off - touch wood) I'm not going to spend money on fancy fixes such as Viagra. Nope, I'll just hope on my local bus and let it do the necessary work.

Ah, bus wood...
(SonoraAeroClub "OH SWEET HELEN OF BALLS!", Fri 26 Jun 2009, 17:07, 2 replies)

Cuntishness made awesome
Londoners will be familiar with our system of paying for buses. Children ride the bus for free. Teenagers may also get on for free, provided they have a special "I'm a teenager" card.

This fact is common knowledge. Despite this, at least once a week, the bus is delayed by a teenager demanding to get on for free without their card.

Sometimes the bus is held up for quite a long time. This is because teenagers are prone to throwing rather loud wobblies at the prospect of having to fork out two pounds.

One day, a moody young chav boarded the bus, without the card. The passengers--including myself (I have lived in South London far too long)--struck up a symphony of tooth-kissing in anticipation of the five-minute delay as bus driver became locked in verbal combat with a youngster with an entitlement complex.

"Nar man, just let me on, I'm twelve, innit," the youth protested (he looked closer to fifteen, but that is wholly beside the point).

All bus drivers are misanthropic cunts. This is 100% of fact. This bus driver was special. He was a clever misanthropic cunt.

"OK, mate," the driver replied in a calm, measured tone. "Tell you what. If you can run to the next bus stop before I get there, I'll let you on for free."

The gauntlet was thrown out. Still in his P.E. kit, our surly antihero readily accepted this challenge.

The bus pulled off. And sailed down the traffic-free road at thirty miles per hour, leaving Kevin as but a dot on the horizon.

Driver didn't even stop at the next stop.
( Queen of Cheesecake, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 16:47, 1 reply)

Drool - is it me?
I **know** I'm not the only one who's done this - Or am I?

When on the bus, when you fall asleep - do you wake up with some drool coming out of your mouth? I have done - Not that I've been on the bus for a long time **and** fallen asleep, but at college, I did. A lot.

Not as much as Speccy McSpec. Well, that wasn't his name, but we never knew it - he went to Grantham Grammar school but caught the daily bus with us college lot (different lot this time) - the bus that took over an hour to do a 20 minute journey as it stopped - at - every - single - bloody - village - in - lincolnshire...

But as he wasn't one of us he got some abuse (sorry Speccy) so he sat at the front with the driver for safety.

Except it was one of those side on seats and he used to always fall asleep - and the drool he produced was biblical.

The best being one of - either waking up with a mahoosive snort fountaining out a collection of drool into the air and back down onto his face as if hit by a water balloon - or being asleep leaning forward (not sure how he never fell off his seat) and a string of drool growing from an inch to a foot to several feet until it hit the floor. Lovely.

We were nice though - we didn't disturb him - but I think the raucous laughing woke him on occasion...
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 16:43, 4 replies)

Brewery trip
Same Amsterdam "holiday" as before and same coach...

We went to a brewery for an "eduactional" tour - screw that, it was the free beer at the end we wanted. Being the 17 year olds we were and in the days before chavery - we managed at least 3 each before dying - Apart from the scarily manly Tracy who managed about 9 before getting bored and harassing some poor dutch guy who **was** coming into the cubicle with her whether he wanted to or not.

(Digression again)

Anyway, we all pack back on to the bus back to the hostel - full of beer - of course....

And there's an accident on the motorway - not a problem, the bus has a loo....

But not loo enough for a 2 hour stop and 40 odd hammered (yes, on 3 beers) college students - the loo filled up and the coach driver (who was, of course, thrilled) told us we weren't allowed to use it - nor were we allowed to use the hard shoulder.

Bollocks to that.

I think we all, every one of us, girls included - used the hard shoulder - in broad daylight - with no tree cover.

We were a classy lot....

No, not truly an "on the bus" story, but hey-ho :)
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 16:27, Reply)

He's dead!
I've been quiet recently so my b3ta stories are a bit off - and some of you have found me on a motoring forum so please, be nice.

We were on a college "eduactional" trip to Amsterdam - We were given the choice, as 17 year olds, of Paris or Amsterdam.... Which would you choose?

Anyway, I digress (as always) - We were told (well, given the 'choice') or travel by plane of the infitessimally cheaper coach.

Coach it is then.

So coach. From Grantham to Amsterdam. Now, where was that sedative?

So we set off - hi ho hi ho, etc - I don't remember the time of day/night we set off, but we got about 30 minutes in to the trip and the novelty has worn off - properly.

So what to do - Moon out the back? Check. Swear at other cars? Check. Get yelled at. A lot. Check.

What now - drink. A lot.

Bored of that - now what? Pass out and sleep - fair enough, it's dary, we're all bored let's sleep - let's do just that.

(I'm getting there)

No we're all friends (mostly) but we haven't all seen each other sleep - and after this trip, most of us never want to see each other again, let alone be on the same course for another year.

Again, I digress...

My friend Zi (Zahir) falls asleep - he sleeps the sleep of the dead, it was rather freaky to be honest and nothing woke him - so we, being friends, did things to him (no, not that) to get him awake. But all we did was get him to loll his head backwards and to the side.

Which was when we noticed it - he slept with his eyes open - actually open - it was the freakiest thing you've ever seen. They were open a good 6-7mm. We thought he was pretending, but no - he really was asleep... It was freaky and we actually got the teacher down to him to check he was alive...

I know, I know - a long lead in to what was, frankly, a shit story :)

As you were :)
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 16:20, 2 replies)

Captain Fuckflaps
I was on the 345 bus on the way to work, sitting next to a woman speaking loudly in a foreign tongue to her unfortunately ugly child on the seat in front.

My hangover was festering nicely and my fingers had begun to tremble.

Anyway, the bus had just left Clapham Common when this drunk crazy comes upstairs and stands over me where I'm sitting. He starts talking to me about my beard and the hoodie I was wearing and I, being the amiable chap I am, start chatting back.

All the while, his eyes are rolling around inside his head like a fucking pinball machine.

So we have this two minute conversation about the Green Man Festival and Wales and beards and he says I look like Jethro Tull and we have a bit of a laugh together.

His breath, by the way, was like a fetid shit-covered mange-ridden dog that someone had run over, buried and exhumed at a later date.

He then offered me a Smirnoff Ice which I politely refused, citing my dislike for vodka and the fact that it's half past eight in the morning. For some reason, this caused him offence and he not so politely offered to shove the bottle through my face if I didn't take it.

So I took it.

He then starts lecturing me about going to work and how it's a waste of time, getting more and more angry with every word. Suddenly, he remembers he's got some pills on him somewhere and starts searching through his jacket for these mystery pills. Thinking about his reaction to me refusing his drink, I was concerned as to his reaction to me refusing one of his 'magic' pills.

Too hungover to get into an argument with Captain Fuckflaps here, I made my excuses and left.

Got off the bus, put the Smirnoff Ice on the floor and got on the 37 to Clapham Junction. After a short and somewhat uneventful journey, I got off at Clapham Junction and went to wait for a bus to take me to Battersea Bridge.

As I'm standing there, the very 345 that I'd been on earlier pulls up and my crazy friend gets off the bus. I jump on board and he spots me as the bus starts to pull away.

As I look out of the window, incredulous, I see him running down the road after the bus shouting "Where's me fuckin' drink y'fucker! I'll fuckin' killyuh!"

Thankfully, this particular london bus had a 9.4 litre engine (originally designed by Renault) and he was soon a distant, if somewhat unpleasant, memory.
( mrlogic is copying your beard, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 16:19, Reply)

Dedication
This one happened to a kid in the year below me at school.

So, it is a day like any other. The half three bell has rung and the kiddies are running out of school, eager to get home.
Now, my school was dead in the centre of town, as as such, the majority of kids who got the bus headed to the main shopping street, so at this time, it would be fairly busy.

The bus shows up, and 30 or so schoolkids of varying age pile on, as well as a few (unfortunate) members of the public. Once the majority are on, a group of around four neds (or chavs for you English type folk) attempt to get on.

"No," says the bus driver. "Its full up." And he was right, it was a particularly crammed bus. So, the neds, looking quite the trifle upset retreat from the bus, swearing and trying to look hard, and begin to walk up the street, in the direction of the back of the bus.

Now, at this point, one of the second years (13-14 years old) got a bit too big for his boots, and as the bus pulled away, he stuck his fingers up at the neds, and did that "wanker" gesture with his hands.

Needless to say, this somewhat enraged the delinquent, and not to be beaten, a plan formulated in his head, almost instantly, which I think is quite a feat considering his "circumstances". You see, Mr Ned here knew where the bus stopped next.

He sprinted up the street, through some back alleys, probably vaulted a wall or two to beat the bus to the next stop, and surprisingly, he made it!

I should probably point out at this point that this guy was in his early twenties.

So, once it arrived, he waited for a few people to get off, jumped on, ran down the middle of the bus, and smacked the kid right in the face! Almost as quickly as he had arrived, he departed. The kid's face was covered in blood.

The police arrived, took statements from people and such, and they caught him eventually. And that, is the most exciting thing that has happened to me on a bus.
(Charlie-M, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 16:16, Reply)

...
I was sat on the bus once, and this girl from the office who I really fancied got on. As she came by I patted the seat next to me and encouraged her to sit down, but alas she didn't notice my hand was there and sat right on it!

I didn't know whether to tell her or just ignore the issue and talk to her normally. And then she noticed. She must have thought I was touching her up; she gave me the most evil look and moved to another seat!

Anyway, by some bizzare twist of fate we ended up getting engaged, but I jilted her on her wedding day and fucked off on a barge, where me and my mate cooked a dog.

True story that.

Thanks,

Mark Corrigan.
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 16:04, 2 replies)

Argument
I’d like to think I’m an agreeable, laid back sort of chap. Someone could come and shit in my lap and I probably wouldn’t mind too much. But we’ve all got those seemingly trivial things that set us off into a blind, blood thirsty rage in the style of a raping and pillaging viking with a bad headache who’s just received some really upsetting news...

Sat on a bus in the glorious hell hole saggy sweaty scrote sack of London, Wandsworth, I suddenly hear the Knightrider theme tune in all its whiney, annoying polythonic glory – it was like a spasticated concerto performed by angry bees. A mobile phone. Oh, what joy. I could feel my blood begin to boil. Here we go. Half an hour of listening to: “WHAT? Naaahhhhh! Reeeee-lllleeeee??? Naaahhhhh! E didn’t!!! Naaaaahhhh, fack off e did!!!” and so on...

Then I realised the ringtone was blaring out from the front of the bus. Being a bonafide coward and hater of all types of personal pain, I simply rolled my eyes and tutted silently as I realised it was the big scary looking Mike Tyson lookalike bus drivers phone going off, making me suddenly nostalgic for the Hoff and his special haunted voodoo car. The driver answered his phone with a fucking rumbling: “WHAT?”

Oh, great – now he’s breaking the law. Driving and using his fucking mobile! My silent tutting got a little out of hand, I thought my tounge might break from the effort. But I’m not a complete wimp. I managed to shake my head very slightly from side to side and sigh (very fucking quietly, but a sigh all the same). After a few moments while the person on the other end of the line chatted away, the driver, who at that very moment in time was hurtling like a lunatic towards Putney Bridge, said, rather loudly infact:

“WHAT??? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY??? HOW THE FUCK COULD YOU!!! ........ I CAN’T FUCKING BELEIVE THIS!!! .... YOU LYING FUCKING BITCH!!! YOU’VE PROBABLY GIVEN ME DISEASES, YOU BITCH!!! .... I’M GONNA FUCK YOU UP FOR THIS!!! .... YOU KNOW WHAT I’M CAPABLE OF!!! ............ HE’S MY FUCKING BROTHER FOR FUCKS SAKE YOU FUCKING WHORE!!! .... FUCK YOU!!! .... NAHHH, FUCK YOU!!! I SAID FUCK YOU, BITCH!!!”

... then it all went a little bit too fucking quiet for my liking...

I got off at the next stop. (Didn’t fancy having this bloke drive me over the Thames in a big hunk of metal that weighed several tons and would probably sink very fucking quickly in-fucking-deed).
( SpankyHanky, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 15:47, 1 reply)

When I was in school...
I used(!) to get major erections in the morning before I went to school. I honestly thought that I might burst my glans with sheer spressure.

Woe was me when the clocks changed went back however, when I used to stumble onto the bus with my boner because my body thought it was wanking time. I was the only one to get on at my stop as well which made it worse.

'Stiffy' Mark they used to call me.

Kids can be so cruel.
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 15:47, 3 replies)

Honestly I didn't sleep in...
A few years back I used to catch the bus to work early in the morning. On this occasion it was about 6:30 on a very cold dark January morning when my bus comes as it usually does as fast as it possibly can around the corner.

So I do what I usually do and walk from the shelter and signal to the driver that I want picked up with a wave as I stand next to the bus stop sign when the bus is a good 100m away.

What usually happens is that the driver slows down and picks me up. What I didn't expect was the driver to wave back at me with a stupid smug look on his face as he plowed on right past me.

Now I had to wait an hour for the next bus to come, making me very late for work. To make things worse my boss thought I had really slept in and said it was shit excuse.

So that day I had to put up with two cunts before it was even 8am.
(fearsome mumbler is shit at telling stories, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 15:23, Reply)

Ten new pennies
Mid-70s during the school holidays that would get you a half return from where I lived to Greenwich on the 180 bus, I'd spend a couple of hours in the Observatory or the National Maritime Museum, and have enough change to get a Mars Bar before heading back home. 10p very well spent.

Exciting times (and I know I'm an old bastard, okay?)

:o)
(Capo, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 15:16, Reply)

tour bus
on my local bus you'll sometimes find a scottish bus driver who tells you the history of the city and famous peoples brithdays. The old ladies love it but the little chaver scum get there jibs in
(Agent Dale Pooper k in the p, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 15:08, 1 reply)