I attract these people. Lucky me.
I'd gone up to London to see Metal-A Headbangers Journey on the big screen. Not really relevant except that it explains two things: Why I was wearing my trusty denim & patches waistcoat and why I was riding the 11pm bus, aka the Pisshead Special, back home.
About halfway there the drunk asleep at the back of the bus woke up. He looked around him, spotted yours truly peacably reading my book, twigged that I was probably not a fellow chav and engaged Bus Nutter mode.
He then proceeded to tell the other passengers that I was obviously a Paedophile because I was reading a Paedophile book. Loudly. And often. (Not entirely sure he knew what the word actually meant except that The Sun thought it was a bad thing.)
When this got boring he started wandering up and down the bus complaining that I stank. And was a paedo.
At which point I leapt from my seat, beat him about the skull with a fire extinguisher and urinated onto his twitching body.
Actually that's what I've been doing in my daydreams ever since. In reality, being British, not mental and, oh yes, a massive coward, I ignored him and hoped he would go away. All the while expecting a tattooed fist to the side of my head. That was a fairly uncomfortable half hour.
Bus Nutters. They're wacky.
(Big D, Thu 29 May 2008, 20:11, Reply)