NYE 31/12/2000
Had headed into Manc city centre to go see in the New Year with a few friends and the ever-charming Mr. Scruff on the decks (who was a legend by the way, we got to meet him after). The whole night was a joy, but for the journey home:
The driver of the only bus we could find anywhere was charging 4 quid. Usual fare just a pound. A cunt, but still a wonderful fella compared to what happened next.
Back in 2000, we didn't have these fancy 'chavs', we had good old 'Scallies' (abbrv. 'Scallywag'). One of whom made the simple mistake of trying to get on too quickly, and must have nudged past another. Who waited until the bus was moving before beating seventeen shades of shit out of the poor guy. Packed bus, and no-one to help the beatee as his assailant has about 5 or 6 cronies with him. Does the bus driver stop? No. Does anyone do anything? No. How long does this guy have the crap kicked out of him for? Long enough that anyone sat in the back four rows had a healthy splattering of blood all over them, and a completely unconscious (and frankly, possibly dead) guy on the floor still being set upon. Eventually, a few guys rallied around to drag the poor guy away from his attackers at the next stop. The driver again did nothing, except telling everyone to 'get that fucking guy off my bus', and counting his healthy, healthy profits for the night.
( the brass moustache putting the ass moust in brache since, Thu 29 May 2008, 21:25, Reply)