Alex
Alex was an old colleague of mine, back in my Jobcentre monkey days. Alex didn’t drive, and lived about 30 miles away from the office, thanks to the Jobcentre’s policy of generally placing their staff as far away from where they lived as humanly possible. So Alex was subjected to a 60-mile round trip by bus every day, and in the morning would be forced to sit on a bus full of boisterous school kids aged 9 – 16.

Now, Alex was a pretty decent bloke, but was a tad on the hefty side, and with a very obvious penchant for a few drinks. The fact that you could smell it on him most mornings, and that his nose was borrowed from a well-known reindeer gave the game away a wee bit. But, it didn’t stop him from doing his job, and doing it well. Until the point where, like most people of his age working for the department at that time, he buckled under the relentless pressure, had a nervous breakdown and was eventually given early retirement on health grounds. At which point he moved into my Nan’s old bungalow, but that’s going off on a tangent.

Anyway, Alex. He told me this tale himself. One evening, after returning home from a particularly crappy day at work, he had got off the bus and though to himself, “bollocks to this, I need a pint before I go home”, and promptly headed off to his local for a much needed wind down. Only, one pint turned into two, and two turned into three, and the evening rapidly developed from there. Come chucking out time, and several pints later, Alex realises he hasn’t eaten and goes off to seek an Indian takeaway, before heading home with his bag of tandoori delights.

Come 6:30am, Alex stirs and rolls his tongue around his mouth, feeling the familiar dryness that comes from an evening of beer and curry. He manages to rouse himself, have a shower, and heads off to the kitchen to make some breakfast – bacon, sausage and egg, washed down with a pint of fresh orange juice. Then he heads off for his bus.

About five miles down the road, but still 15 minutes before the next village, his stomach churns into life. The combination of last nights beer and curry, and that mornings grease-covered breakfast plus a pint of fresh orange, are all starting to conspire against our hero, and he’s sat there, clenching furiously and desperately trying to think of anything except the fact that he’s really, REALLY desperate for a shit of humungous proportions. Which is not helped by the fact that he’s being driven through the English countryside, past fields full of steaming manure… All the while, the bus is filling up with snotty nosed school kids, and he’s alone in a sea of raging hormones, isolated in his plight.

Finally the bus pulls into the next village, and Alex can’t take it anymore and dashes to the front of the bus for a word with the driver. “Excuse me mate, I’m really dying for the bog, can you wait two minutes”? The driver agrees, and off he dashes…

…To the nearest house, where he knocks on the door. An elderly lady answers, and he asks if he can use her loo. Slightly bemused, (and probably thinking he needs a slash, not the other) but obviously sympathetic to his plight, she ushers him in and shows him where the bathroom is. Ten minutes later Alex thanks the old dear profusely (probably advising that she gives it five minutes as well) and returns to the bus. Which, amazingly, is still there.

Unfortunately for Alex, the kids have clocked that he’s been away for a while, and have put one and one together to make two. As he re-embarks, 40 schoolchildren point at him and shout, “Look, the fat bloke’s been for a shite”. Cue the rest of the journey enduring ‘amusing’ comments about the number two, nappies, and should they ask the driver to wait for him when he finally got off.

Quite why he never learned to drive after that is something of a mystery
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 27 Mar 2008, 16:00, 2 replies)

Hmmm.
Might have something to do with the crippling expense of it.
( Madam Marlboro wonders if you've found her yet, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 16:16, closed)

^ Possibly a good point...
However, I needed something to finish the tale of with, and thought that would fit the bill...

:-D
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Sat 29 Mar 2008, 0:08, closed)