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This is a question Buses

We've got a local bus driver who likes to pull away slowly just to see how far old ladies with shopping trollies will chase him down the road. By popular demand - tell us your thrilling bus anecdotes.

Thanks to glued eel for the suggestion

(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 13:14)
Pages: Latest, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, ... 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

Oh, one last one before I go to shop
He was driving a route and there was some cunt in a Citroen 2CV that drove alongside him, so every time there was a car parked in the bus lane, he had to slow down and pull out behind the Citroen, pull back into the bus lane whereupon the Citroen driver would assume his position alongside the bus.

After 10 mins of this, he'd had enough. Approaching a green light, the Citroen decided he wanted to be in the lane in front of the bus to turn left.

My mate hit on the gas and the bus lurched up over the bonnet of the Citroen and pretty much stamped it flat to the road.

The police car that was across the lights came over and two officers got out. They had seen everything and the Citroen driver got breathalysed, cuffed and taken away all the while my mate leaning against the front of bus, smoking a roll-up and pissing himself laughing.
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 14:14, 1 reply)
The delights of Croydon
If you have been out and about in South London, most notably Croydon, you will be aware of the fact that you take your life into your hands when you step onto some Croydon buses.

One such day, I got onto a bus and sat upstairs. I heard some commotion downstairs, and we weren't moving. I thought it was just the normality of someone shouting at the bus driver so I stayed put. After 5-10 minutes had passed, I decided to be nosy and go downstairs.

I was greeted with the sight of a shaken young lady who had been covered with Fanta by a couple of resident chavs, who had since legged it off the bus.

She claimed to have been so shaken because she thought at first that it was acid. A slight over-reaction I thought, but it turned out that she had a baby with her; so I could just about understand her alarm. It was then made clear that the woman had called the police, which would delay the bus for a further 10-20 minutes because the bus driver was a witness.

Being the lazy bastard that I am, I decided to stay on the bus sitting at the back. There were two old ladies in the seats in front of me, talking quite loudly about how angry they were that the bus wouldn't be moving for a little while longer. This carried on for the whole while, and they even persisted when the police officers were taking statements.

To my surprise, one of the police officers (A very tall bloke) started talking to the old ladies like they were little girls; saying that "It's because of people like you that the country's in the state it's in". The old ladies didn't say a word after that.

It was quite surreal.

On another note, I've had a glass bottle thrown out of the top floor of a bus by some chavs at me, which literally missed me by inches.

Croydon's great.
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 14:14, Reply)
I don't bother paying
I just wave my hand in front of the Oyster card reader and shout

Works a treat.
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 14:12, 3 replies)
I heard this conversation on a bus in London the other week
Indignant passenger: "You called me Baldy!"

Driver: "I called you Sir. I said that'll be £1.50 please Sir".


"Sir, I need you to move down to let other passengers on the bus".

"I am not going to move down, I am going to get off the bus and report you".

"OK Sir, if thats what you want to do".

He got off, and just as the doors were shutting but within earshot...

"see you later Baldy".
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 14:05, 4 replies)
The last time I was wankered was the office Xmas party
That level of inebriation where your eyesight begins to fail and you lose all sense of direction. It took me ages to get to the station and then I was just in time to get the last bus home.

About a third of the way home, I'm busting for a pee, so I get off he bus, wander down a side street, find an alley and urinate for what seemed 20 mins. I zipped up then it hit me. Fucksocks. I'd got off the last bus and had to walk a good 3 miles home. I did it slightly sideways and followed the bus route for some reason, which must've added at least 15 mins to my journey time.

Then when I got home, I couldn't get in. Mrs SLVA had locked me out because I had neglected to let her know 6hrs previously if I was staying for the party or not.
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 14:04, Reply)
I hate buses
One day back when I was at college I was making my way back from a game of snooker in town on the bus for the afternoon lessons, and at the back of the bus were 2 girls probably about 15 years old drinking some crappy cider from a 2 litre plastic bottle.

About 1 min into the 5 min journey my mate points out the strange liquid pouring along the floor of the bus. Turns out one of the girls had pissed herself on the back of the bus, and to make it worse, upon seeing this the other girl threw up making a horrific mix of piss and cider vomit.

Got the driver to just pull over right away and got the fuck out of there, I'm usually very lazy, but I'm not willing to sit on a bus full of piss and vomit just to save myself a walk...
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 14:03, 1 reply)
Deep breath...
As a child my mother would take me on the bus to town; when we stood at the bus stood, invariably some buses servicing different routes would also stop. One of my fondest memories from childhood was the smell of the buses exhaust fumes - if we weren't getting on the bus, I would stand close to the back of the bus and inhale deeply as it pulled away.

New buses don't smell the same to me.

I know, I know - I was a strange child; I used to love to eat matchstick heads too (but not the crappy brown safety matches - it was red or nothing).
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 14:00, Reply)
I love you Raymond...
This is a tale of quality irish bus drivers.

Back in the days when I drank properly, my mate that owns a pub, his dad and another regular decided to take on the 'Cork Challenge' (not that weird you depraved lot).

The Cork Challenge is a charity event that allows you to go to pubs, have a pint in each in the name of charity, have your photo taken in front of it (in fancy dress), and first to the Murphy's brewery in Dublin with the most pubs wins a prize.

We set off from the North East, down the tyne valley, over to the lakes (where we got our only free pint), around Liverpool (a fucking leprachaun standing outside an orangemen's pub is NOT a good idea), into North Wales and eventually we find Anglesey and the ferry port.

We left the car there and jumped on the ferry after a bit of kip.

Standing in the queue (yes that is how you spell a line of people), a couple of inebriated twat scousers show up. One is a fucking hippo-like munter of the highest chav order with more gold on than Elizabeth Duke. The other is a lanky unshaven dirty thick as pig-shit chav (much like the ones guarding the gaps in the fence at Glastonbury). These two wastes of skin are off to Dublin to celebrate their engagement. Hurrah!

We finally get on the ferry having seen these two eat each other alive in the waiting room - not pleasant at 2am.

We shuffle off and find some seats and a cup of tea and try and sleep ourselves to the emerald isle. Periodically the munter and 'Raymond' wander around the ship, pissed out of their tiny minds alternately arguing or making up from their argument, the munter, who we shall call Sharon for ease can only say two things - 'I love you Raymond' and 'I want a bacardi breezer'.

5 hours later we're in Dublin - hurrah - we can escape the moronic chavs and go for a good irish breakfast and a pint of the black stuff.

No such luck, the shuttle bus (see this is on topic) arrives to take us all into the city. Cost - 1 Euro per person. We pile on and pay our 4 Euros. Sharon shuffles on behind us, pays and wheezes her way into the flid seats. Raymond barrells his way on to the bus and tries to avoid paying.

The delightful irish bus driver asks him (politely) to come back and pay. Raymond refuses. The driver asks again, Raymond asks 'Woi the fuck caaan't I go for nuthin?' - The driver replies 'Because everyone else has paid and there are no exceptions to the rule'

Raymond whinges "Well I'm on the bus I'm not fucking going anywhere"

Bus driver: "If you haven't got a Euro you can get off my fecking bus and fuck off back to England you druken twat"

The rest of the bus, at this point are in stunned silence. Watching intently at what will happen.

Sharon weighs in (considerably) at this point: "Go on mate, let him on the bus pleeeeze" (Why the fuck she didn't pay, I have not a clue)

Bus driver: "No, he needs to pay"

Raymond: "Go on mate"

Bus driver: "Have you got a Euro?"

Raymond: "No"

Bus driver: "Well get off my fucking bus" Then physically lilfts the chav and dumps him on his arse in the car park. Raymond reeling in shock from this quality action (and being 14 sheets to the wind), can't get up.

The bus driver quietly returns to the bus and drives off to a round of applause and much laughter from the other passengers.

Sharon sticks her head out (well more of close too, it was the size of an A4 paper box) the window "I looooovvveee yoooouu Raymond!"

Dublin Port Bus Drivers - don't cross 'em!

As an aside we got another bus from Dublin to Cork (4 hours on a coach, joy). However the driver was happy to stop outside every pub on the route for us to leap out for a picture - what a fucking legend!
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 13:58, 2 replies)
Working for the Bus Co
When a student I had a part-time job working in cash collection for a bus company.

The busses would come in at the end of their shifts and drop off a bag of coins and notes and it'd be the task of the people in this small, non-airconed room to count the money and place the information (handwritten mind) into files appropriate to the bus routes.

The bus company owners (hello Bill, you cunt) were some of the most corrupt fuckwads I've ever met. The place was full of the lame the infirm and - having had two weeks of listening to old women jabber about Corrie, their bunions and what they were doing at the weekend - I told my boss to shove his job up his arse.

Not really much of a story, I know, but it's late.

Will think of a better one.

Move along now ...
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 13:58, 1 reply)
passengers from HELLLLL
Here in Bristol, UK, First Bus has a monopoly on bus travel. I've
been using their buses on a daily basis for more that three years and
I've encountered a few...interesting passengers in my time. I've got no problems with the buses...much...just the people on them.

- The guy who was on his phone for a good 45 minutes talking about
some godforsaken pointless thing in a high-pitched loud voice. When
he got of the bus there was several sighs of relief, let me tell you

- The people that have (as I call it) SAD: Social Anti-Awareness
Disoder. This is, they talk to you...for ever...about stuff you dont
care about, want to know about, or hold the slightest bit of intrest
into knowing. I don't care about your kid's operaion or your cat's
problem. Just...please...fuck off.

- The HOLY FREAKING HELL most umpleasant women I have ever had to
deal with. The first time I "met" her she had just go onto the (very
full) bus and was stood next to the door. As an old lady walked past
her she said "wheres your manners" under her breath, to which I
replied "wheres yours?". I recieved a torrent of foul-mouthed abuse,
saying how I should respect older people (like her? pah!) claimed she was pregnant and demanded my seat. A cold stare works a treat. As she
got off the bus a couple of people cheered and as people walked past
me to get off they said "good for you" and such...which was nice.

- Next time she stood in front of the doors as they opened and got
smushed. Then she started having a go at the driver "mumble shoud be
be fucking working here, taking our fucking jobs blah blah". a couple
of people piped up, "dont like it, fuck off and walk" and "he's only
doing his job". She looked at me again and after a friendly (ha)
disagreement I said "pull a stunt like that again and I, along with
several others, WILL remove you from the bus". She said "you wouldn't
dare touch me" to which I replied "you're right...I dont' know where
you've been". When she got off I gave her a little wave. She gave me DEATH STARE 101. The bus driver said thanks.

Sorry, suppose you had to be there.

length? more than three years of hell.
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 13:55, 8 replies)
Things you never knew about buses. Part 1
During the war buses were rationed, because many buses were melted down and made into helmets for our soldiers. After the war, all the helmets left were melted down and made back into buses again. That's why many soldiers, upon returning home would remark to thier wives; 'there goes my helmet, shitcunt.'
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 13:54, 1 reply)
Sleeper bus hell
The overground trip from Mongolia to China, once you have flogged your car in Ulaanbaatar, is best achieved by train. A leg of the Trans-Siberian railway runs through the Gobi desert down into Beijing. Unfortunately for us this needed to be booked months in advance. We had three days to get a visa and get out of the country.

And so we found ourselves on a local sleeper train that would take us to the Mongolian/Chinese border at Erlian. There we would pick up the sleeper bus (Individual beds! Air con! Flush toilet! Other completely made-up bullshit!) and travel on to Beijing.

The overnighter on the train was lovely, if slightly warm, and we all fell asleep on our bunks to the swaying of the carriages as they rattled through the empty landscape. We awoke in the border town. All border towns have that transitional grimness: heat, dust, queues of stationary vehicles and buildings bleached with sunlight. We saw the coaches and waved our tickets and were ushered on board.

A veal calf would have pitied our conditions. The beds were about a foot wide and five feet long, two high, three rows running the length of the coach. They were metal, with a thin foam mattress and grimy sheet over each one, and a pillow that could cause a pandemic balanced at one end. I fought to secure a bottom bunk and tried hunching myself into the tiny space. It was impossible to sit fully upright on either the top of bottom bunk.

By means of sign languages and the odd familiar word we were told that the toilet was out of order. As was the air conditioning. It was easily nearing 40 degree heat outside in the midday sun and we had a day and a half on this motoring hell.

The first bus broke down half an hour outside the town. Our bus, of course, had to stop too. We took the opportunity to piss by the side of the road. I got back on the bus, unearthed my sleeping tablets and half bottle of top quality Mongolian vodka and decided to cope with the journey in my time honoured tradition of forcibly blocking it from my memory.

For me, the journey was a nightmarish, sweating, semi-awake, half-paralysed trip to the darker pits of transport hell. I remember flashes, like scenes from a movie: loud voices and lights at a truck stop and the smell of frying meat; the pitch of the engine and the broken spring on the bunk above me; my mate's face, blurred and pale, in the bunk opposite. For my unfortunate friends, it was ten times worse - two of them had food poisoning. On arriving to Beijing we were unceremoniously dumped in the outskirts of the city while taxi drivers vied to take us to one of their specially recommended hostels. We slunk into a McDonalds and praised globalisation and Western capitalism.

I love travelling. I do a lot of it, for work and for pleasure. But ever since that journey I have refused point blank to get on a coach. Don't try convincing me that National Express so much better - that's merely trading discomfort for a different class of psychopaths.
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 13:50, 2 replies)
My mate the driver again
He saw some bloke with a crash helmet on at the bus stopand thought, "that's a bit odd" as you would. He picked him up anyway and started to drive away.

The helmet guy then pulls out a pathetic excuse for a knife and says "Give us your money". My mate replied with 'fuck off will yer, I'm trying to drive a bus'

'Give us yer money or I'm gonna stick yer' and brandished the knife some more.

Nothwithstanding the large perspex screen between him and the driver, he still hadn't clocked the fact that (being back in the 90s) your money had to be the correct fare and you dumped it into a chute that went into a steel box. The money in that box wasn't going anyway without the access key and that was in a drawer in the cashier's office back at the depot.

Now my mate was getting a bit pissed off at the runt by now and saw his opportunity to get shut of him.

The route he was driving was across a large open plan housing estate which had a lot of large roundabouts. He put his boot down and started going round the roundabout and opened the doors. You'd be surprised at how fast a 12-litre turbo engine can push 12 tone of bus. and they refuse to fall over having such a low centre of gravity.

He managed almost two full circuits around that roundabout before helmet guy lost his grip and flew out the door. He shut the doors and carried along on his route with a round of applause from the passengers.
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 13:48, 8 replies)
A friend used to live right at the end of a nightbus route, on the very edge of London. At first, we thought we'd never see him, but once he worked out said fact about the nightbus, he was fine - he'd just come out on the piss in town, jump on the bus, have a booze-induced doze on the top deck, and then amble off the nightbus and into bed within five minutes when the driver chucked him off at the end.

It was such a convenient arrangement he used to take the piss out of the rest of us for not having it so cushy:

'Right, we all done for the evening, then? I'll just go and have a nap on the bus while you lot get the tube'

All fine till one extra special night when he over-indulged a bit, passed out completely, and woke up to find someone had robbed him. Weird bit about it ? Not only had they taken his phone and wallet, but also his shoes.

Shoe fetishist? Opportunist who liked his trainers? Terminator appearing from the future on the top-deck of the nightbus?

He was more careful in future, anyhow. Apart from the time he had to wee in a bottle because he didn't want to get off and wait ages for another bus.
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 13:47, Reply)
I wnet on a bus once
and it ran down the aisle almost all the way to the front.
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 13:47, 3 replies)
On a bus, in Cornwall, at night.
Going around and around and around on a Roundabout in circles.

I raise my eyebrow to the other person on the near-empty bus.

Then we hear the bus driver yell back to us "Hey... Either of you lads know your way around these parts?"

Luckily I did or we probably would've ended up in Devon eating our shoes and drinking our own piss for sustainance.
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 13:46, Reply)
As I haven't seen Axeman Jim around in a while
I think I'll post something he wrote, it's one of my favourite posts ever -

I think you can see where this is going.

However, I have been in a position to exact revenge on these scumbags on two occasions.

1 - Bus 65, Kingston-Ealing. Two teenage girls start their ridiculous tinny warbling from their stupid walkie talkies.

"Please turn that off" say I.
"Fuck off" say they.
"I don't want to listen to that" say I.
"It's a free country, innit? You can't stop us" say they.

In my bag, I have the following:

*An MP3 player full of the latest rockin thrash metal sounds.
*A pair of battery powered speakers.
*Balls of steel.

Cue, as a starter, "Army of Me" by Chimaria, a fine, rousing tune if ever there was one. Especially when turned up to 11.

"Turn that shit off" say they.
"Free country, innit?" say I.

After about 5 minutes (during which the deafening musical selection had changed to the soothing tones of "I will be heard" by Hatebreed) they turned off their phones. So did I.

2 - Bus 418, Kingston-Epsom

Similar scenario, this time 4 girls about 13 years of age.

This time, however, my armament was different, comprising:

*An acoustic guitar.
*Two mates.
*Three skinfuls of beer, shared out between us.

It's amazing how long three pissed blokes can keep up a rousing chorus of "I've got a song that'll get on your nerves." And as we were all musicians, we did the harmonies, and the secret second verse, which goes "We've got a song that'll piss off some chavs."

So if you're on a bus in South-West London, some chav is playing shitty music from their phone, and no-one else can help, maybe you can hire:

Axeman Jim and his weapons of sonic doom.

Taken from b3ta.com/questions/publictransport/post165634
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 13:42, 3 replies)
just a little bit
When i was working as a bus driver,
my Boss was always shouting for me being just a little bit late...
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 13:40, Reply)
honestly can't think of a worse profession
abusive passengers, fare dodgers, rowdy school kids in the day time and drunken dickheads in the night time. not for me thanks.
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 13:35, 1 reply)
My mate was a bus driver
and on the last bus of a certain route, he had to pass through the villages of Preston, Hedon and then Paull. Terminate at Paull, turn around and go back to the depot. If there was no one on board after Hedon, he used to just go straight to the depot.

Except on some occasions, there used to be a blind guy who used to get on the last bus at Preston to go to Paull and was often the only person on board by then anyway.

In order to get home a good 30mins early, he had to find a way to avoid picking him up. So he hit upon the idea of switching off the engine and coasting past.

The bloke would be standing at the stop, feel a bit of a draught, and then complain about how late the bus was.
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 13:24, 8 replies)
Story that springs immediately to mind
As told by Gary Lineker.

Lineker is out on the lash in the West End with everyone's favourite lovable drunk wife-beater Paul Gascoigne.

At the end of the evening, unable to find a cab, Gascoigne commandeers a Routemaster bus and asks the conductor nicely if the driver wouldn't mind doing a detour via Lineker's house in St John's Wood or somewhere equally leafy.

It being Gazza, the driver complies - cue Gazza conducting the entire top deck of the bus in a singalong to the old Cliff Richard song set on a double decker, "We're All Going On A Summer Holiday".
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 13:24, Reply)
The wheels on the bus go round and round
Use to get the bus home from school every day. Journey was normally about 20 minutes but the closer we got to Christmas the longer and fuller the bus got. And the last week of school the bus was standing room only and you couldnt get another single (or married) person onboard

Sat up the back (because I was one of the hard kids) a couple of rows in front was a mum with a young daughter balancing her shopping on her lap. The little kid was standing next to her and was singing loudly. The only song she knew was The wheels on the bus

"The wheels on the bus go round and round.
Round and round
round and round

But she only knew once verse. Which she then repeated again and again and again.

And whilst the first time was cute the 23rd time was more than slightly irritating.

So mum turned to her daughter and asked the little darling if she could sing something else.

At which point her daughter stopped and thought for a second before starting up again with

"Bodyform. Bodyform for YOUUUUUUUUU!

The bus laughed and the mum went red in the face.
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 13:24, 4 replies)
That goddamn M2 bus.
Anyway, I like this bus called the M2. Once I get a Train from my college to the local bus station, I can get the M2, and it takes me from there to literally right outside of my house in about 10 minutes. So it's like the holy grail. Thing is, it's just so damn hard to catch. It comes once an hour, and that's it. 43 minutes past. I remember a few weeks ago when I got there at 35 minutes past, and was ecstatic that I'd catch it. Turns out the twunt of a bus driver came early, and thought "sod it", and left early. Jesus, I hate and love that bus so much.
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 13:24, Reply)
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 13:22, Reply)

Anyway, once I was on the bus into town I was chatting to the driver as it was quiet and if suddenly exclaimed 'Fuck Me' I was like 'what?' if said look in this mirror (the one that lets you see what's going on on the top deck) and well Fuck me if there wasn't a young couple shagging in full view. Best bus ride ever!
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 13:20, Reply)

(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 13:19, Reply)
third! or How a Homicidal Bus Driver Saved My Life
Korean bus drivers are insane. Now I have to think of a story to go along with it...

I have a week of commuting to and from work for something good to happen. For now how about I just back up my first statement.

Buses are the most dangerous vehicles on Korean roads. I say that having driven scooters (the second most dangerous vehicles) off and on for five years. My first year here, I used a scooter to travel around to apartments to tutor people in English. I was in a quiet corner of Suwon with wide roads but not much traffic. You'd wait five minutes for a light to change and no cars would cross. I'd often run lights, but only because other scooters would and I wanted to conform. Know who else runs lights? Buses. Korean bus drivers know only two moves: stomp on the gas or stomp on the brakes. It's hell if you're actually riding the damn thing. So how did a homicidal, law-breaking Korean bus driver save my life? Let me explain...

It was 9pm, and I was riding home after my last class. I pulled up to a red light in a very isolated part of town, and neglected to run it. I can't remember why; usually I would.

The light turned green, and also uncharacteristically, I paused before pulling into the intersection. Good thing, too, as just then a bus charged through right in front of me.

Here's a helpful diagram so you understand what's going on. Note that Koreans drive on the right.

I counted my lucky stars that I was in a slow mood that night and proceeded straight through.

Then, as I was exiting on the far side of the intersection, that car pictured to the right swung around the corner, hugging a tight right turn, and slammed into me. We couldn't've been going very fast, maybe 20 or 25 km/h, so I leapt off to safety and landed on my feet. The scooter was totalled. The driver got out, apologised, and we exchanged contact information. Note though that I didn't have a valid licence for this country, and technically I was working illegally on the wrong visa. My memory's faded but I'm pretty certain he offered to pay for my repairs.

Next day, I went to the scooter shop, where the mechanics were talking with my boss's wife, and all of them seemed concerned. Yet they knew absolutely no English and I knew virtually no Korean. I drew a diagram similar to the above, complete with traffic lights. It was then that they started to act surprised. It turns out the driver who hit me was blaming me, saying I ran the red light (when in reality he was the one who blew through a red, making a right turn without stopping). I stood to not only lose the repair money, but also be held responsible for damage to his car, and most likely deported.

They asked me if I was sure the light was green. I remembered the bus that had nearly killed me, and the relief I'd felt for waiting before gunning out into the intersection. Since I'd waited for the bus to pass, this logically meant I'd not only had the green, but it'd been green for several seconds. The bus and its maniacal driver were my salvation. Otherwise I'd be second-guessing myself, not able to say with certainty I had right-of-way.

My boss' wife called up the other driver and berated him into confessing, until even I started to feel sorry for him. Then I remembered he'd tried to get me in deep trouble just to save a couple hundred thousand won on repair bills. I knew even less Korean then, but it was vicious. The damage was paid for, and I was free to go on and get in future accidents (that don't involve buses).
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 13:19, 2 replies)
edit: dagnabbit!
(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 13:18, Reply)
Tommy Cooper gets on a bus.

The conductor asks: "Fez please!"

(, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 13:17, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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