The Self-Preservation Society
Whilst in Italy we took the public bus along the Amalfi coast for a day at the beach.

The driver obviously makes this journey every day and so is rather blase about the GIGANTIC DROP DOWN A CLIFF at the side of the road. A road which has no barrier.

He took every corner at speed with very little care, hoping, I presume, to get to his espresso, ice cream and (add additional Italian cliche here)as soon as possible.

The wife was loving it, pointing stuff out in the sea. I was not. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to get the theme tune to the Italian Job out of my head.

After a day of sunbathing, I suggested that a trip back up the coast on a catamaran would be a romantic end to our trip. I elected not to mention that I was too scared to back on the bus. I think she knew full well that this was my real motive.
(jesseventura, Wed 20 Jul 2011, 9:23, 4 replies)

You, sir, do not have three pubes on each ball.

(boozehound is drinking your bar dry, Wed 20 Jul 2011, 10:28, closed)

Have you not seen the Italian Job?
I'd have lost all my gold. all of it. (I presume that's what happens after the credits).
(jesseventura, Wed 20 Jul 2011, 11:16, closed)

I've also done that
It was heartstopping, and the bus was overloaded. I had an outspoken Noo Yoik woman behind me (standing in the stairwell) who kept declaring 'Holy Maria, Mother of GAWD, we're going to die!'
(muppers, Wed 20 Jul 2011, 15:54, closed)

Reminds me
of the coach driver on our school trip to Rome/Pompeii: he'd driven that coast road for 40 years and still crossed himself, albeit subtly, at every big bend.
(Good old boy just like yer grandma!, Wed 20 Jul 2011, 21:48, closed)