Buses: the discerning traveller's vehicle of choice
Incorporating a bit of a pearoast…

Buses are great aren’t they? A moving, human zoo in which the exhibits are ever changing as they hop on and hop off, whilst you stare out of the window dreaming of exotic locations and the warm welcome you’ll be getting when you arrive home. Not mention wondering how you'll get the chewing gum off the arse of your new pants that you have inadvertantly just sat on.

Actually, no they’re not. I hate bus travel; I hate the fact that for me to do a 16 mile journey from my house into Newcastle, it takes an hour as the charabanc meanders slowly around housing estates, picking up its malnourished cargo whilst negotiating speed humps and avoiding toddlers playing ‘chicken’ on tricycles. And the last bus home is a delight. Even besides the fact that the top deck is usually full of pissed up, mooning strangers, tunelessly regurgitating Newcastle United terrace chants at the tops of their voices, a one hour, violently bouncy journey on an item of public transport with no facilities is a prospect I can no longer endure. These days, I get the last train to Morpeth, then a taxi home. At least I can have a piss on the train. And another one in the nearest pub when I get off.

That said, you do get to overhear some gems of conversation at times, like, “Eeh, there’s some heat in that sun isn’t there”?

“Aye. Mind, it gets cooler when it goes in again”.

And so on. Best one I heard about, though, was this, overheard by a friend on a bus a few years ago. Sitting in front of a couple of 'attractive'* chavettes, he and his mate were party to their every word (every other word of which was 'fuck', or a variation of). Dave and his mate were trying to chat, but were repeatedly distracted by the stream of badly constructed obscenities, interspersed with the odd proper word, like chips, or kebabs.

They were hooked. It was like their very own mini Big-Brother, with 'ordinary' people laying their souls bare for the whole bus to be party to.

Then chavette #1 piped up, "Ah wuz wiv wor lad last neet, it were lush. W' had a proppa sesh, like, an' ah lerrim howk aal owa me chebs".**

Sweet.

*Subject to interpretation obviously
**Translation: I was with my chap last night. We had a smashing time and as a token of my love for him, I let him spill his seed upon my heaving bosom.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 25 Jun 2009, 17:13, 1 reply)

Ahh, DG...
I do like your posts. I'm also currently thanking fuck I never braved the buses when I was at uni up there, though...
(berk, Mon 29 Jun 2009, 15:40, closed)