So many posts about bus rides being hell
Which I'm sure many many are.
As a non driver I have no problem getting a bus to take me from A to B with the minimum of fuss, blood and mayhem.
Apart from being stuck between a nasty mouth smacking noisy gum chewer and and a tacky chav family of 3 teens and their mum having a really loud conversation not suitable for others ears for over an hour, I cant recall any really unpleasant happenings on a bus.
On at least 2 occassions a bus ( or driver, or another person) has been my saviour.
There is fun to be had on buses.( of the clean variety ;) )
Specially open top buses.
On a hot day off with nothing really better to do I bought a day saver ticket and spent the whole day riding around on open top buses, seeing places I wouldnt normally go to in my everyday life.
And on one a friend laid across the back of 2 seats and pretended to be superman flying through the air while it was filmed, cleverly without the seats showing and only the countryside passing by behind him.

At the end of a days travel I will always offer my day saver ticket to someone waiting at the bus stop when I get off, you would be surprised at how many back away in horror thinking it must be dodgy.
Hey free ticket, take it, theres no catch, i'm done with it, make use of it!
Why are people so scared and doubtful of kindness?

Oh and I make eye contact and smile at people on London buses and tubes, partly because it freaks people out and partly because well I'm just nice (naive/ignorant/countrybumpkin/add your own)

So, as much as Ive laughed and cringed at some of the horror stories about buses.
Bus rides can also be fun and/or uneventful
(insomniac-surfer oh go on then, just this once, Wed 1 Jul 2009, 3:15, 5 replies)

My neighbours got on a bus once....
One day, some of the neighbourhood crowded around some nice shiny grey buses (not sure if it was the start of Greyhound, these had a little white cross on the sides)

anyway.... men, women and children all piled on and went off for one hell of a day trip!! Didn't see them for months! Actually I don't recall seeing them come back.... must have gone to one of those Hitler's Holiday Camps people were talking about..... wish I'd gone now! Must have beat sitting around in an attic all summer!
(Anne Frank started to build a loft conversion on, Wed 1 Jul 2009, 0:21, Reply)

I'm gonna slip in a sneaky late one
I've plenty tales of bus-woe, but they're all of the interminably boring variety that irk you for about 5 minutes after they happen, so here's one from the fluffy side. There's a fair bit of background so anyone wanting to dive headlong into the bus action should skip to para 4.

I was jammy enough to spend a lovely year in France last year. With it being a lovely sociable affair I met a lot of friends and started seeing a lot of one particular young lady, almost all of her as Blackadder would say. Anyhoo, at the end of the year we decided to stay together.*

She comes from a town in Sweden** (a town so crap it's shittyness is even documented in a film www.imdb.com/title/tt0150662/ ) that takes a plane, bus and train to reach. This story happened coming back to Scotland in January.

I'd caught an early train into Gothenburg Central, the airport bus linking with my flight wouldn't leave for ages, leaving me utterly, utterly bored. So as soon as I saw an airport bus appearing on the departure board I was off like a shot, as quick as you could say a single to the airport please I'd bought my ticket, hopped on and settled into a happy little half-asleep snooze. To say I was rudely awoken is an understatement, it was one of those 'OH SHITTING HELL' sort of moments, when I realised in my blinding stupidity what I'd done. Gothenburg has 2 airports and I'd got on the bus to the wrong one. As cock-ups go, I'd reckon this is up there.

So time to assess options, frantically check the time, yes there's still a while to go, easily enough time to take a taxi, but a taxi I'd probly struggle to afford. Hurtle off the bus, and catch sight of one ready to go back to Gothenburg, look at my watch, maybe, just maybe I'm in luck here. So I get to the driver I manage to stammer out my story, and that's when I realise just how lucky I am. She takes out her schedule, not only does she tell me I'm going to make the flight, but also tells me to put my wallet away for both the ride back to Gothenburg and to the right Airport. So thanks to her kindness not only did I catch the flight, but I didn't even spend an extra penny because of my stupidity.

*For added awww we're still together and she's coming to Glasgow in September, for good.
**To appease the Honda Accord brigade, I should point out that even I can see she doesn't fit the Scandinavian stereotype.
(lordylordington, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 23:28, Reply)

Thrilling, eh?
Whilst riding on public transport - I personally disliked it when an old person dropped off to sleep on myshoulder. I mean, how bloody rude of him. I was trying to have a wank.
(Chickenwire social lubricator extraordinaire, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 23:21, 2 replies)

The No. 1
The Grantham to Lincoln bus that has taken me to school, college, university and now work for about ten years now. The thing is, I usually have to catch it at about seven in the morning, basically because it's incredibly unreliable, and usually goes at a snail's pace. But this means I get to see 'The Regulars', the same people who catch the bus at the same time each day. I'm serious, like freaking Groundhog Day, only more depressing. Because I am usually bored out of my tiny mind, I have felt obliged to invent nicknames and backstories for all the regular folk that catch this bus over the years. The two most interesting* people I have dubbed Madame Shuze and Mortimer. Basically Madame Shuze constantly gives me greif for smoking around the bus stop, until one day she apparently reported me to a bus driver, who did ABSOLUTLY NOTHING. Win! Anyway, the other, Mortimer, looks exactly like Boris Karloff only skinnier and with glasses, but also appears to be in complete black and white. he has never smiled, never made eye contact with anyone, and never said anything to any of the other regulars, except for me. One day I was exercising my face-of-thunder because the bus was late for the umpteenth time, and I accidentally let out a rather uncouth obscenity. He leaned over and muttered (in a voice resonant of early Hammer Horror villains): 'It's OK, I can't afford to drive either'.

*Not really.
(thorned_soul, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 22:41, 2 replies)

i hate buses and the drivers
As a cyclist/courier/cunt i have a special hatred for buses. if i was a betting man i would wager that all those over weight kiddie fiddling bus drivers have a tally chart of how many cyclist they hit, right next to the scouts on tour calendar.
(CaptainCuntyBollocks the man who can with a frying pan full of lamb, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 22:39, 2 replies)

On the bendy bus to Gelsenkirchen,
Germany's Hull, I met a guy who asked me to be a witness at his wedding the next day to his very pregnant fiancée. He said he couldn't rely on his best friend to turn up, so I went along, as did his sister, whom the registrar informed she was actually supposed to call the police because her asylum-seeker's residency permit didn't allow her to leave Aachen.

Bumped into him again on the bus a week or so later. He was smoking opium.

Buses rock.
(nugchuts, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 22:34, 1 reply)

“No eeeeeet's for everyone!”
'Twas a dark and drizzly night and I was drunkenly chatting with my mate Pete while waiting a seeming eternity for a night bus in a desolate suburb after a gig in Islington. Out of the mist an 'out of service' night bus came along in the other direction and pulled up at the stop opposite.

Much to our bemusement the driver got out, crossed the road past us and started going through the donations outside a Save The Children charity shop and takes a couple of loads back to the bus where he already appears to have a fair collection of would be charity shop fodder.

Pete asks him if he thinks it's ok to steal from a charity. This goes back and forth for a while with the driver getting increasingly irate when Pete in a moment of drunken emotion points out that “It's for the starving children in Africa!” which was enough to set me off giggling. Where upon the (previously very West Indian sounding bus driver) squeaks the immortal reply:

“No eeeeeet's for everyone!” sounding exactly like Manuel from Fawlty Towers finally reaching the end of his tether.

At this point I'm doubled over with laughter and our bus turns up. The driver follows Pete and I on board remonstrating with him at the top of his voice.

The new driver is looking understandably worried at one of his colleagues being in an argument with a burly drunk and asked me what was going on. The expression on his face was when I explained was priceless.

I really wouldn't have like to have been the thieving driver next time he was on a break with his colleagues.

When I complained to the bus company they came out with the normal line about not being able to identify which driver it was. So I emailed them the photos I'd taken of him in the act [stop sniggering at the back] and suggested if they couldn't identify him from those then the local paper might be willing to help. Funnily enough they didn't have any problem working out who it was after that.

First time – please be gentle.
( ElParrot, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 21:24, 4 replies)

Just remembered another one.
The buses here have racks on the front so cyclists can hop on the bus and rack their bike.
I was on the bus to work one morning, and there were a couple of bikes on the front. A few stops later, two guys get off the bus and take the bikes - didn't think anything of it.
It wasn't until the first guy who actually owned the bike realised his had been stolen that the 2nd guy realised his too, had been nicked.
The bus driver and I were able to give descriptions, but that didn't help much (Mexican, brown hair, brown eyes.....)
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 19:15, Reply)

Rail replacement
I was working in London a couple of years back. On one particular day the train station I would normally start at for my journey home, and the main one for the journey northwards, were both closed due to the British rail network being unable to cope with weather.

Anyway, I managed to make my way to Finsbury Park (my chief scientist), where I was assured by an official on the platform that a train heading towards Peterborough would be along in 15 mins or so. The only trains I saw were going to places I had no intention of visiting nor had even heard of. One of these had just left and the next one along was for Peterborough. I got on. Some other people got on. The annoucement told us that actually it was going to the exact same places as the train which had just left. We all got back off. The train remained empty despite the announcer urging people to get on it to go to whereever it was going. Probably anybody interested had got on one of the other five trains that had turned up to also go there, such as the one which left a minute before. Anyway, I digress.

Several more minutes passed, and an announcement was made of a replacement bus. One going somewhere miles out of the way, the other going to Stevenage and Hitchin "because that's all the driver knows". It wasn't quite as far up the line as I would have liked, but I figured my options were wait for a bus that was, or take my chances with this and hope trains were running from Hitchin. I decided to take my chances.

We start exiting London. The driver visibly drives past about three turn-offs for the A1 and appears to be heading for the M1. One of the passengers shouts "you do know we want the A1, don't you?" and starts shouting directions. We turned off the A1 at Stevenage, the driver pulls in to the first bus-stop he sees and shouts "Stevenage!". Nobody gets off, owing to us being nowhere near the station. The man shouting directions earlier makes some remark about this not being the station, and walks down to the front of the bus to give the driver more directions. He got off at Stevenage station. My hopes of ever getting even to Hitchin were dwindling, and I was seriously considering getting off there myself.

We finally made it to Hitchin station with various passengers shouting directions. It was only going as far as Hitchin because "that's all he knows", but turns out he didn't even know that.
(chrisy may have been stored with nut-based products, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 19:00, Reply)

Lincoln, The Lunatic who should be avoided on buses.
First let me tell you about Lincoln. He is a six foot seven, thin as you like black guy with the scariest bulging eyes you will ever encounter, think of a young Samuel L Jackson wanking like a amphetamine abuser on a come down with a gun pointed at his cock daring it not to cum..

When Lincoln would talk to you he would get within an inch of your nose and look directly at you while talking extremely loudly. While never actually giving a thought for what you were saying, he would go off on random tangents about the possibility of Smurfs being higher beings and how chicken and chip shops are fronts for Peado rings. Sexually and socially inappropriate comments were also his forte. Got the Picture.... good, lets continue with the story.

So one sunny morning, Lincoln bowls into work with an erratic and suspicious smile that is not familiar to him at half six in the morning. He would usually kick something as hard as he can and shout random abuse but this morning his cheery disposition and shit-eating grin seems slightly scary. With a due sense of dread and curiosity I ask him why he is so happy (I was expecting him to say something along the lines of that he had just fire bombed a Macdonald's or he had seen a young child get run over).

He goes onto to retort a rather strange experience on the bus that morning involving a young lady. Lincoln told me he jumped on the bus as usual; this would probably involve telling many members of the public to fuck off, kicking grannies out of the priority seats, telling young mothers with children that they were bleeding our society dry and then take his seat. After a few stops he said that a rather pretty girl got on the bus and sat next to him, not only did this surprise him because there were plenty of seats available (and me because he always has a look that suggests he hides in buses at night breathing heavily while scoping out a potential victim serial) but also said hello if not quite loudly. This must have excited Lincoln because not only was she pretty, she sat next to him and was on his space invading ear drum busting talking level. He went on to tell me that she was not very talkative but nodded responsively to his general ranting and wild hand gestures.

So knowing his stop was coming up soon he said he tried to get her number. After several minutes of this girl simply nodding her head to his vain attempts at getting her number Lincoln gets out his own phone and started to wildly tap his phone onto it. The now probably very frightened girl gets out her phone and hands it over to Lincoln. He told me he rang his own phone on her phone to get her number and then gave it back and then said his goodbyes and got off at the next stop.

Still busting with happiness he told me that he was going to ring her later after work. But being the picky twat that he can be, he said she was a little rude as she had these funny skin coloured headphones in both ears and never took them out while talking to him.

Oh dear Lincoln... I think you may have given a poor deaf girl the scariest bus journey of her life.

If you were that deaf girl back in the summer of 1999 and came across this nutter you have my sympathies. You must have been petrified.
(CaptainCuntyBollocks the man who can with a frying pan full of lamb, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 18:59, 2 replies)

27 / 25 to Carlton, Nottingham
Has anyone else seen the hilarious drunk love/hate couple?
He looks like a ginger piglet, she looks, well, bad tight curly perm also looks like a pig. They get on the bus and are usually pissed, he is quite amorous but then they usually have an argument, he tries to snog her, misses, puts his tongue in her ear which results in her yelling, "Gerrof yer bogger" or some other such insult. Alternatively, they are pissed and very loved up which results in a lot of groping and tonsil tennis. Not nice if you sit behind them. Or anywhere near, really.
(SpongyMonkey is an honorary East Anglian on, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 18:52, Reply)

For some reason I feel like
I've seen the film 'Speed' about ten times.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 18:48, 1 reply)

Ahh, Rail Replacement Services. Don'tcha just love 'em?
First post, long term lurker and all that. And a bit of a long story.

Back in December '07, I returned to the UK from visiting my then-girlfriend in the Land of Germs on one of Ryanair's cheap-and-not-so-cheerful at stupid o'clock at night flights. I took the X30 airport shuttle bus from Stansted Airport and got off at Rayleigh in order to board a train home to Hockley, one of the smaller towns on the rail line between Rayleigh and Southend-on-Sewage (end destination on this stretch of track).

Apon entering the station however, there was a huge work train blocking up the tracks for engineering work - Seemed all trains were cancelled and instead were replaced by buses.

Stupidly enough, for some reason I thought that you could buy a ticket from the bus driver like you do on normal buses. I also stupidly assumed that the rail-replacement bus service would stop at every stop between Rayleigh and Southend.

A bus eventually appeared after much waiting, and I was questioned by the driver. He asked me where I was going. "Toward Southend," I said, rather than the opposite direction that the trains normally went in which was toward London. I asked him about buying a ticket. "No worries mate," he said. "Just hop on".

So I jump on this bus, the driver thinking that he's done me a favour, and me thinking "Awesome, a free ride home!". I was proved wrong, however, when I noticed him turn onto and then hurtle down the daul carrigeway that goes directly between Rayleigh and Southend - Entirely by-passing my home town.

Arse and fez.

Turns out that because I didn't have a valid rail ticket, the driver didn't know anything about my destination. Oh, and this was one of the buses that only stop between the major stops on the train route, rather than the smaller stops.

Thanks for the lack of information there, National Express. Very kind of you.

So I get out of the bus outside the terminal station of Southend Victoria. I thank the driver for his kindness of giving me a free ride - Okay so I'm now stranded and further away from home than I was when I was stuck in Rayleigh, it's 1am, no other buses or rail-replacement buses will run before the morning, I'm incredibly fucking thirsty because airport security don't allow liquids onboard thier planes, no shops are open, station is closed so I can't access the vending machines, I have a heavy backpack, and not enough money for a taxi. But he didn't know any of this and therefore can't be blamed, so I thank the guy and watch him drive off.

8 miles sure is a long way to walk after spending the past few hours cramped inside various vehicles, with a heavy pack and while being thirsty. Oh and Tesco are liars - They're sure as hell are not open 24 hours, despite what their signs say. . .

As a good friend said to me when I told her this story, assumption truely is the mother of all fuck-ups. :P Bloody buses, though. Maybe not so good for travelling, but definately good at getting you where you don't want to be if you're not careful. :P

Cemeteries are good places to get free tap water from if you really need a drink that badly, BTW. :/

[Insert witty, yet generic length joke here.]
(Darkhoodness jumped on his own grenade & blowed to smitheroons, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 18:45, Reply)

BUS LANE BASTARD
One of my biggest driving aggravations is drivers who use the bus lane when it’s in effect. I see bastards flying down it nearly every day whilst I and most over good drivers queue in the correct lane of traffic.

A bus driver made my day recently when a car driver blatantly used the bus lane all the past a busy line of traffic.

The bus driver honked at him all the way down the bus lane until we reached the normal traffic lane again.

The car driver had nowhere to go and clearly didn’t like been embarrassed. His male passenger got out of the car and pressed the door open button and was arguing with the bus driver as to what the problem was (Dickhead!!) and was told that his driver pal had flounted the rules and ridden in the bus lane for the most of his car journey.

The guy was giving it some and generally being an argumentative jerk whilst the driver just kept is cool and reminded him that the bus had a camera on the front and that he’d be sending the footage off his pal riding in the bus lane to the Police (I’m not sure for definite but I think it’s a £60 fine penalty).

This was enough for the guy to scuttle off back to his car.

Thanks bus driver x
( DUMBLONDE is a rubber lover girl, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 17:02, Reply)

Rail Replacement Bus
Last night, due to engineering works I was forced to get a bus to my local station. Cursing my lack of forethought (I would have ridden to where the train ended if I'd bothered to check) I got on the bus that would've looked outdated in the 60s and plonked myself down next to a fairly attractive young woman engrossed in her iPod.

As the bus thundered its way down the A2, I realised I knew the song she was listening to. Trying my best to be subtle (not an easy task at the best of times) I edged a tiny bit closer, and concentrated all my meagre mental abilities on trying to work out where I recognised the riff from, forgetting where I was. I nodded along with it until it suddenly clicked and...

"And they all go hand in hand, hand in hand through their parklife! Know worra mean!"

It was then I remembered where I was. I know it's poor form to sing along to your own mp3 player in public, but what about someone else's?
(jamesthegill opens new tabs with his scroll wheel, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 16:21, Reply)

Advice from old people
Many moons ago I regularly had to take a bus from my tiny little village into Sixth Form College in Eastleigh (one of the armpits of Southampton). This was normally a tedious affair that resulted in you having to sit next to some smelly old duffer who probably thought they were still rationing soap.

On one winter afternoon I was dutifully skipping a chemistry class and returning home early to engage in far more interesting activities with my then girlfriend. Upon reaching the rancid shopping centre in the centre of Eastleigh two elderly gentlemen boarded. One of the poor old duffers was suffering from a stinking cold. As these two gentlemen sat down I was blessed with overhearing the following advice:

Duffer 1: “Cold?”
Duffer 2: “Yes! Bloody stinker…worse than a German sniper.”
D1: Best way to cure a cold you need a half bottle of whiskey and a glass of warm milk.
D2: What? You put the whiskey in the milk.
D1: Nope…you got to drink the entire bottle of whiskey before the milk gets cold. Cure anything that.

Wonderful advice that…lived by it for years!
(TeabagSalad Never teabag a troll, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 16:12, Reply)

I once had a nightmare bus journey
Got on to go to work, sat in my usual seat, then after a few minutes I realised we wern't stopping. Bit weird. Then this dark haired bloke who talked like he had a minor stroke said woodenly: "There's a bomb on the bus! If we slow down it'll go off and we'll all die!"

Then this walking lump of dense oak proceeded to try and get in the knickers of the frazzled woman who - for some reason - ended up driving the bus.

It was pretty hairy, I can tell you, we even jumped over a big gap in this bridge - on a fucking bus!!! But eventually it all came to an end: I'd had so much of this whooooaaaa, dude cunt that I twatted him in the face with a seat I'd just ripped up and slammed on the handbreak.

The bus stopped. The bus exploded. 90% of the passengers died. I'm writing this from intensive care having broken every bone in my body. But at least I can die happy, knowing I saw that cunt Keanu's brains get splattered all over the interstate.
(Big Grant, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 16:03, Reply)

I knew I was in trouble...
when the guy I was travelling across the city with turned out to be a raving alcoholic.

It was obvious from the moment I met up with him that his colleagues didn’t like him one little bit, in fact they felt he wasn’t worth the effort. Washed out, in fact. So they’d palmed me off on him. All he had to do was get me to my destination.

Everything started out fine. He gave me a lift in his car - sat me in the back for some reason, though. Unfriendly gimp.

Then, after crashing and shooting some of his colleagues (I know! It surprised me, I can tell you!) he tells me he’s determined to get me where I’m going. I would have been more than happy to just give up, but he really did insist. Plus, he had a gun.

Next thing I know, he’s hijacked a bus complete with all its passengers. He gets them to tape newspaper up on the windows so his colleagues (there’s quite a lot of them now) can’t see in. And then all hell broke loose. I never knew a bus could take so many bullets and just. keep. going.

Still, he got me to my destination on time, so I wasn’t complaining. I don’t think his colleagues were too happy about it, though.

What’s worse, though is that I later found out one of his predecessors had done the same thing almost thirty years later. You would think they'd treat people like me better, wouldn’t you?
(dxg, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 15:56, 1 reply)

You wouldn't like me when I'm angry...
I know this is really lazy (especially for a first post) but I made this comic for an issue of my 'zine a couple of years back and thought it fitted in quite well! I promise to actually type stories out in future.


(Serf Toby, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 15:39, Reply)

Two-wheeled terror
Back when I was a wee little shit I regularly caught the bus both to and from school. The school had contracted the service to some shoddy second-rate company, complete with dilapidated double-decker buses and a very high turnover of drivers. Often I would not see the same man behind the wheel more than once, as is the case with the one I shall mention below.

The driver in question was a chap who I would soon find out was totally insane. There were no seats available and so I had to stand and hold a rail, not usually a problem. However once the bus started to move it was, I swear this guy had no idea that such a thing as a brake pedal existed, or engine braking for that matter. I clung onto that rail for dear life as the bus lurched around corners at breakneck speeds.

Our chauffeur certainly knew the accelerator existed as he had one of his feet pushing it firmly into the board at all times, even when faced with the many speedbumps scattered about the roads. The creaking metal monstrosity must have been travelling well in excess of the 30mph speed limit, I'm surprised it didn't fall apart at such speeds. The bus hurtled downhill toward a Gatso conveniently placed for the purposes of nicking motorists and was met with an inevitable flash as it passed. The driver was totally unfazed and had made no attempt to slow down beforehand, this despite the fact that the camera is in plain view for all to see.

At this point I felt rather uneasy and had taken quite a battering as a result of being flung about inside the bus from hell. However the worst was yet to come - the bus was headed for an island. The driver's grin turned into an crazed ear-to-ear smile as he flung the wheel left, then sharply right. The bus tipped one way then the other, no sooner was I almost hanging from the rail than I was crashing violently back into it. With the angle at which the bus was leaning I swear it must have been on two wheels and somehow defying the laws of physics. The majority of the other passengers were screaming in the same manner as they would on a rollercoaster, they were actually enjoying it. I on the other hand was white as a sheet and touching cloth.

As the other passengers departed they congratulated the driver, some even shook his hand. Nobody seemed to care that they could have departed this bus journey by departing from their mortal lives.
( R.Soul hmmm, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 15:36, Reply)

Meanwhile
Back in reality.

Was getting the night bus home with my mates, and 2 ladies got on at around Vauxhall. Turns out they were carpet munchers - there was one really fit one and one slightly butch one. Anyway they sat right in front of us, on the seats facing us, and spent at least 20 minutes sucking each others faces off. There was even some groping. One of my friends decided to video it for prosterity, but got busted and was forced to delete it. Still, the images were downloaded to my brain for future thrapping purposes.

Another time, the driver of the bus I was on at Morden decided to drive into the bus stop, showering the waiting passengers with glass. A TFL person came out of the office there, didn't apologise or see if anyone was hurt, but just checked the bus for damage. Priorities.
(thefuckestuppest cheapened this, on, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 14:28, Reply)

Whoop whoop - tha sound of tha polise
Back when I was in the force I was escorting a witness from Vegas to Phoenix. Turns out she had information on some corrupt cops, who were keen to shut her up. We got shot at quite a bit, but in the end we got away and manged to "borrow" a bus.

We drove into Phoenix, and all the cops were trying to shoot us and shit. Luckily I'd pimped out the bus with some armour plating and that, so it all turned out OK. Plus I got to bone her.

Ben Shockley
(thefuckestuppest cheapened this, on, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 14:23, 1 reply)

Bus Games - Direct From A Bus Driver Himself
One of my friends is a bus driver. He's also a notorious shitbag. Recent meanderings, via the joys of Facebook, have included:

'Could I get fired for responding to an old moaning passenger with "when I'm half your age, you'll be dead, at which point I'm going to shit on your grave and skullfuck your corpse"'?

Yes. Yes you could. Quite justifiably.

Also, a new game that has been introduced:

'Pensioner bus bowling. You wait until you have at least 5 oap's standing up on your bus, then slam the brakes on and see how many fall over. I just scored 2.'

Great.
(Stevieweviewooface, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 14:19, 1 reply)

The worst bus is the one you have to get in the morning to work
But the best is the one you get back home again later!
(Great Amy, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 14:17, 1 reply)

My limited bus memories in order...
Bad - Birmingham c.1984, night bus Birmingham to Walsall, some fucker sets fire to the upstairs back seat then legs it. Stranded near Wednesbury for two hours waiting for a new bus.

Bad - Birmingham c.1984, night bus Birmingham to Walsall, fell asleep on it, woke up where I got on. Cunty bus driver made me pay again.

Bad - Birmingham c.1984, night bus Birmingham to Walsall, minding my own business on the top deck having a smoke, got punched in the face by some cunt for "looking at him funny".

Bad - Birmingham c.1984, night bus Birmingham to Walsall, quite pissed, broke arm falling down the stairs.

Good - Berlin c.1989, all I had on me was a 500 DM note (probably worth about £150 at the time) the driver called me a "Wichser" but let me stay on for nowt.

Bad - Glasgow c.1992, a man sat next to me and puked into his lap.

I've not used a bus since.
(zebby wasting irony here on, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 13:40, 2 replies)

I love my bus to work
Run be a very small company, the bus makes four journeys a day - two to Didcot, two from. The company doesn't have the proper card readers, so they just issue passes as a normal ticket which you need to show to the driver every time. In theory. It's always the same couple of drivers and they know all the regulars, so they just wave you on assuming you have an in date ticket. My ticket is currently more than 6 weeks expired, and I'm wondering if I can get it to my august holiday before I have to get a new one.
(Potty Jag har smör i min rumpspringa, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 13:24, 4 replies)

This could have been in the Bosses QOTW
I worked for a bus firm in London for a while. The job itself wasn't too bad, had a good pal there with buck teeth and straw hair (no, not a scarecrow) and we'd get up to all sorts of mischief on the job while trying to pull the local fillies. The only "fly in the ointment" was our Boss, a scrawny, jumped up little Hitler type, complete with a toothbrush 'tache. No idea why but he took a complete disliking to me and matey, going so far as to install a two-way radio in our cab to listen in on what we say. I got my own back by shagging his niece. Ha!

Yes, life was quite different back in 1973.

Love,
Reg Varney

PS. Bindun?!?
(RVD420 has his world coming down on, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 13:21, 1 reply)

Last one
Once i got the 192 (Manchester to Stockport - this was a regular thing in my youth) and nothing happended at all.

The whole journey passed without incident. I got home safely and it wasn't very exciting.

True that!
( SpikeyPickle wishes he was mabazaritchie, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 13:16, 2 replies)

Another 192
The gangsterwannabe Asian chap thought he was special. His little cronies thought the same and chuckled at his faux-american-ghetto accented insults to all and sundry.

The little weedy bloke sat in front of him turned round, called him a cunt and got a bit of abuse himself. The abuse soon stopped when little weedy bloke bashed gobby Asian chap so much that blood fell out whilst his little gangster wannabe chums looked on in silence.

192 - Saturday night - Highly recommended
( SpikeyPickle wishes he was mabazaritchie, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 13:10, Reply)