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)