Things not to say & do on public transport.......
At risk of repeating myself from some other QOTW, I very very very rarely travel on the chav wagons that pass for buses round our way (1hr 30 mins to do a journey that takes me 20 minutes....what the fuck is that all about???)

sometimes tho, sometimes when I'm too tight for a taxi and can't find a willing friend to drive me to drink I have to brave the 'public transport experience'

Some do's first of all....

1) take a pair of earphones, even if you don't have your MP3 player with you put them in your ears, so none of the nutters who come and sit near you, and beleive me if you rarely travel by public transport you act like a nutter magnet.

2) sit at the back, right at the back. If waiting for one of those 'buses' to come along make sure you are first in the queue, then get on the bus like you own (and for the price it is these days you probably do) and then sprawl on the back seat.

All the hard kids at school used to sit at the back so if you sit at the back scowling and sprawled out as if its your couch at home, then no-one will sit near you in case you are a nutcase.

3)Tut loudly every time it stops, and sigh theatrically at the amount of time it takes people to get on and off, keep tapping your feet and looking at your watch as well.

Now most importantly, things not to say and do on buses.

1) If someone rings you up and asks where you are do not say 'Riding the poverty wagon surrounded by fat dobbers in tracksuits who smell of old meat' they don't like that.

2) When the driver asks you where to don't say 'Home James & don't spare the horses'
also when ringing the bell don't tap the driver when your outside your house and say here's fine pal!

3) DO NOT read the Metro, whilst its an entertaining paper, any example thats left in captivity at the end of the day will have been read by people who catch buses.

You have seen the state of the people who catch buses, the fat slags in short skirts with a hundred children in different shades of brown like a dulux colour chart.

The weird bloke of an indeterminate age with a mouldy green anorak, bottle top glasses and a carrier bag who smells of old cheese, wee and cabbages and who probably lives at home with his mother and who has a scary interest in small children.

The old old old lady with a tartan shopping trolley, who falls to sleep and you wonder whether to wake her in case she's actually died, she smells of cat food and talks to herself.

The youth in a hoodie who if he wasn;t riding this bus would probably be trying to stab you, steal your car or fuck your mum. And he has more spots than Spottyman from Superted with measels.

The Emo, relatively harmless but if I hear My Chemical romance blaring out of a mobile phone then I'm sorry but I will not be responsible for my action.

All these people catch buses, all these people look to be carrying some new form of disease, and if you pick up that Metro then you will be ill.

Public transport? More like the travelling hospital wagons for the sick, bewildered, lost and fucking scary.

After ten minutes in a bus I miss my lovely dream machine, with its air con, its accelerator, its choiceof music, its comfortable ride, and the fact that i can drive it where I like when I like.

Fucking buses. Fuck 'em.
(Lord Monkey of Yorkshire,OBE killed a gipsy on...., Fri 30 May 2008, 23:16, Reply)