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)

Just one more thing sir...
you say you are a "hater of all types of personal pain", but I do believe, sir, that you also have tattoos.

I could be wrong sir, in fact Mrs Columbo has often pointed out the error of my ways, but I seem to remember that the process of getting a Tattoo is quite painful.

I did enjoy the rest of your statement though sir. You have a nice day now!
(Detective Columbo needs to ask you just one more thing..., Tue 30 Jun 2009, 7:39, closed)