Public transport and the weirdos who use it

[Roadkill]

I had to use public transport for the first time in five years today, due to a series of circumstances that left me unable to use my car to get to the required destination on time. I decided to use the bus, which turned out to be a mistake. I had to stand for most of the ride, the seats were full of stinking OAP's, chav mothers holding shit smelling, screeching infants and hoody wearing twenty-something ne'er do wells that would glare at you like you spat at their feet at the slightest hint that your eyes might lock with their own. The whole atmosphere was one of shit, hopelessness and stubborn unwillingness to change one's lot in life. The floor was sticky with an unknown substance that made a loud ripping noise whenever I lifted the soles of my boots from it and the temperature fluctuated between uncomfortably humid to dangerously over heated due to those shit windows that they have that open a quarter of an inch (presumably to keep the bus smell from polluting the outside world) and the drivers stubborn unwillingness to turn off the heaters.

I finally gained a seat when a scowling youth stomped his way off the bus, rudely shoulder barging me as he passed with a bony shoulder, undoubtedly on his way to the Job Centre to sign on for another weeks worth of dole to spend on weed and £500 I phones. I was tempted to stab him in the throat, but I simply lacked the energy due to the excessive heat and stifling air, so I allowed him passage, marking his face for a righteous glassing in the small chance that our paths might cross again in the future. Having a seat made the journey slightly more tolerable, despite the heater now burning my left calf through my jeans with the heat of a thousand suns and the harsh knowledge that the seat I was using would undoubtedly been both shat and pissed upon on multiple occasions throughout its lifetime, the rancid stink of the isle was kept at bay due to the faint air currents seeping through the window and the view of the outside world going by gave me some small hope that I would make it to my destination alive and well. I occupied my time by watching two wasps battle it out near the back window of the bus over what appeared to be a half eaten doughnut inside a discarded Greggs bag and occasionally checking my phone for messages. I was making decent progress of it all... 'till she arrived.

She was about 5'4 in height, and roughly the same in width. Late fifties with long grey and white hair with just a hint of nicotine brown to accent the colours and dull doughy eyes with large bags under them. She waddled her way over, panting and gasping through her slack open mouth. She wore an ancient denim jacket over a sauce stained pink cardigan with the picture of a sickeningly "cute" cat embroidered across its front in full A3 size glory and one of those black ankle length dresses with weird swirly patterns that seem to be reserved for the extremely obese from which the tips of two well worn burgundy carpet slippers could be seen peaking from the shadows. As she took the seat by me, almost crushing my right leg beneath her bulk before I saved myself by retreating into the far corners of my own I swear I heard the metal frame groan under the pressure. I found myself wondering how much weight a bus seat was built to take before it would collapse, or even worse, fall through the floor of the vehicle entirely, throwing its occupants under the mercilessly spinning rear wheels to a messy death -

"So who are you voting for during the election? I'm voting Labour." A sickly sweet voice with posh, naval undertones interrupted my thoughts.

Oh no. Oh FUCK NO! Why did I have to put up with the desperate old cunt who's so starved of human attention that they make it their mission in life to burden everyone else with awkward, stilted conversation about current events to feed their own pathetic needs.

"I don't know. I've voted Labour in the past," I begin to explain, accepting my fate, but taking solace in the fact that my destination is now three stops away, "but I don't really think Corbyn is electable-"

"Oh well I've always voted Labour, you see and I believe youngsters like yourself are failing to see Mr. Corbyn (Fucking MR. Corbyn) for what he truly is: the only one willing to speak up about your rights."

Oh, I see what this is now. You're old and lonely and desperate for even the vaguest of human interaction, but you're also a rude cunt who speaks over people because you think you know best despite not even hearing their arguments. I accept my fate, slipping effortlessly into the role of conversation whore, filling in the empty spaces in her toxic, one sided, conversation with disinterested additions of "Yeah" and "Uh huh", counting down the stops as the self important cunt drawled on about the economy and Brexit. I noticed the two wasps from earlier apparently amend their differences and fly their way out through a window that was slightly more open then the rest due to a missing rubber seal, the lucky cunts...

She's still droning on when my stop comes into view, something about how she "doesn't really get out much these days" but she always enjoys "good conversation with people" when she does when I interrupt her by asking her to press the bell for me. The dusty old cunt actually has the nerve to look rudely startled, like I just told her to fuck off.

I got a Taxi home later. It cost £20 but it was worth every fucking penny.

[Cuntybaws]

TL:FO

Bus wanker.

[Eric Cuntman]

9 minutes ago, Roadkill said:

I had to use public transport for the first time in five years today, due to a series of circumstances that left me unable to use my car to get to the required destination on time. I decided to use the bus, which turned out to be a mistake. I had to stand for most of the ride, the seats were full of stinking OAP's, chav mothers holding shit smelling, screeching infants and hoody wearing twenty-something ne'er do wells that would glare at you like you spat at their feet at the slightest hint that your eyes might lock with their own. The whole atmosphere was one of shit, hopelessness and stubborn unwillingness to change one's lot in life. The floor was sticky with an unknown substance that made a loud ripping noise whenever I lifted the soles of my boots from it and the temperature fluctuated between uncomfortably humid to dangerously over heated due to those shit windows that they have that open a quarter of an inch (presumably to keep the bus smell from polluting the outside world) and the drivers stubborn unwillingness to turn off the heaters.

I finally gained a seat when a scowling youth stomped his way off the bus, rudely shoulder barging me as he passed with a bony shoulder, undoubtedly on his way to the Job Centre to sign on for another weeks worth of dole to spend on weed and £500 I phones. I was tempted to stab him in the throat, but I simply lacked the energy due to the excessive heat and stifling air, so I allowed him passage, marking his face for a righteous glassing in the small chance that our paths might cross again in the future. Having a seat made the journey slightly more tolerable, despite the heater now burning my left calf through my jeans with the heat of a thousand suns and the harsh knowledge that the seat I was using would undoubtedly been both shat and pissed upon on multiple occasions throughout its lifetime, the rancid stink of the isle was kept at bay due to the faint air currents seeping through the window and the view of the outside world going by gave me some small hope that I would make it to my destination alive and well. I occupied my time by watching two wasps battle it out near the back window of the bus over what appeared to be a half eaten doughnut inside a discarded Greggs bag and occasionally checking my phone for messages. I was making decent progress of it all... 'till she arrived.

She was about 5'4 in height, and roughly the same in width. Late fifties with long grey and white hair with just a hint of nicotine brown to accent the colours and dull doughy eyes with large bags under them. She waddled her way over, panting and gasping through her slack open mouth. She wore an ancient denim jacket over a sauce stained pink cardigan with the picture of a sickeningly "cute" cat embroidered across its front in full A3 size glory and one of those black ankle length dresses with weird swirly patterns that seem to be reserved for the extremely obese from which the tips of two well worn burgundy carpet slippers could be seen peaking from the shadows. As she took the seat by me, almost crushing my right leg beneath her bulk before I saved myself by retreating into the far corners of my own I swear I heard the metal frame groan under the pressure. I found myself wondering how much weight a bus seat was built to take before it would collapse, or even worse, fall through the floor of the vehicle entirely, throwing its occupants under the mercilessly spinning rear wheels to a messy death -

"So who are you voting for during the election? I'm voting Labour." A sickly sweet voice with posh, naval undertones interrupted my thoughts.

Oh no. Oh FUCK NO! Why did I have to put up with the desperate old cunt who's so starved of human attention that they make it their mission in life to burden everyone else with awkward, stilted conversation about current events to feed their own pathetic needs.

"I don't know. I've voted Labour in the past," I begin to explain, accepting my fate, but taking solace in the fact that my destination is now three stops away, "but I don't really think Corbyn is electable-"

"Oh well I've always voted Labour, you see and I believe youngsters like yourself are failing to see Mr. Corbyn (Fucking MR. Corbyn) for what he truly is: the only one willing to speak up about your rights."

Oh, I see what this is now. You're old and lonely and desperate for even the vaguest of human interaction, but you're also a rude cunt who speaks over people because you think you know best despite not even hearing their arguments. I accept my fate, slipping effortlessly into the role of conversation whore, filling in the empty spaces in her toxic, one sided, conversation with disinterested additions of "Yeah" and "Uh huh", counting down the stops as the self important cunt drawled on about the economy and Brexit. I noticed the two wasps from earlier apparently amend their differences and fly their way out through a window that was slightly more open then the rest due to a missing rubber seal, the lucky cunts...

She's still droning on when my stop comes into view, something about how she "doesn't really get out much these days" but she always enjoys "good conversation with people" when she does when I interrupt her by asking her to press the bell for me. The dusty old cunt actually has the nerve to look rudely startled, like I just told her to fuck off.

I got a Taxi home later. It gost £20 but it was worth every fucking penny.

Bloody hell RK! I worked my way through that TSDesque epistle as I've had similar horrifying experiences on buses. Haven't been on one for years but it seems nothings changed. Jasper Carrott did a hilarious monologue on the subject of the 'bus nutter', probably on YouTube. Also check out his collection of genuine insurance claims, the one that sticks in my mind is.... "I reversed into the wrong driveway and hit a tree which wasn't there."..another one is..."I swerved several times before finally managing to hit the man, he said it was his fault and he had been run over before." The claims are all genuine and well worth reading through for a laugh.

[Roadkill]

6 minutes ago, Cuntybaws said:

TL:FO

Bus wanker.

Eh?

[Cuntybaws]

3 minutes ago, Roadkill said:

Eh?

Too long: Fuck off.

 

[Roadkill]

Just now, Cuntybaws said:

Too long: Fuck off.

 

The condensed version:

I got on a bus. It was fucking horrible. Some old cunt got talking to me about the elections. I died a bit inside.

[PANZER MURPHY]

38 minutes ago, Cuntybaws said:

Too long: Fuck off.

 

Laffin

Panzerknacker 

[Witheredscrote]

What is public transport?

[Guest Drew P Pissflaps]

Fuck all that. Did you get the girls number or not you slick bastard?

[Rick_B]

2 hours ago, Roadkill said:

I had to use public transport for the first time in five years today, due to a series of circumstances that left me unable to use my car to get to the required destination on time. I decided to use the bus, which turned out to be a mistake. I had to stand for most of the ride, the seats were full of stinking OAP's, chav mothers holding shit smelling, screeching infants and hoody wearing twenty-something ne'er do wells that would glare at you like you spat at their feet at the slightest hint that your eyes might lock with their own. The whole atmosphere was one of shit, hopelessness and stubborn unwillingness to change one's lot in life. The floor was sticky with an unknown substance that made a loud ripping noise whenever I lifted the soles of my boots from it and the temperature fluctuated between uncomfortably humid to dangerously over heated due to those shit windows that they have that open a quarter of an inch (presumably to keep the bus smell from polluting the outside world) and the drivers stubborn unwillingness to turn off the heaters.

I finally gained a seat when a scowling youth stomped his way off the bus, rudely shoulder barging me as he passed with a bony shoulder, undoubtedly on his way to the Job Centre to sign on for another weeks worth of dole to spend on weed and £500 I phones. I was tempted to stab him in the throat, but I simply lacked the energy due to the excessive heat and stifling air, so I allowed him passage, marking his face for a righteous glassing in the small chance that our paths might cross again in the future. Having a seat made the journey slightly more tolerable, despite the heater now burning my left calf through my jeans with the heat of a thousand suns and the harsh knowledge that the seat I was using would undoubtedly been both shat and pissed upon on multiple occasions throughout its lifetime, the rancid stink of the isle was kept at bay due to the faint air currents seeping through the window and the view of the outside world going by gave me some small hope that I would make it to my destination alive and well. I occupied my time by watching two wasps battle it out near the back window of the bus over what appeared to be a half eaten doughnut inside a discarded Greggs bag and occasionally checking my phone for messages. I was making decent progress of it all... 'till she arrived.

She was about 5'4 in height, and roughly the same in width. Late fifties with long grey and white hair with just a hint of nicotine brown to accent the colours and dull doughy eyes with large bags under them. She waddled her way over, panting and gasping through her slack open mouth. She wore an ancient denim jacket over a sauce stained pink cardigan with the picture of a sickeningly "cute" cat embroidered across its front in full A3 size glory and one of those black ankle length dresses with weird swirly patterns that seem to be reserved for the extremely obese from which the tips of two well worn burgundy carpet slippers could be seen peaking from the shadows. As she took the seat by me, almost crushing my right leg beneath her bulk before I saved myself by retreating into the far corners of my own I swear I heard the metal frame groan under the pressure. I found myself wondering how much weight a bus seat was built to take before it would collapse, or even worse, fall through the floor of the vehicle entirely, throwing its occupants under the mercilessly spinning rear wheels to a messy death -

"So who are you voting for during the election? I'm voting Labour." A sickly sweet voice with posh, naval undertones interrupted my thoughts.

Oh no. Oh FUCK NO! Why did I have to put up with the desperate old cunt who's so starved of human attention that they make it their mission in life to burden everyone else with awkward, stilted conversation about current events to feed their own pathetic needs.

"I don't know. I've voted Labour in the past," I begin to explain, accepting my fate, but taking solace in the fact that my destination is now three stops away, "but I don't really think Corbyn is electable-"

"Oh well I've always voted Labour, you see and I believe youngsters like yourself are failing to see Mr. Corbyn (Fucking MR. Corbyn) for what he truly is: the only one willing to speak up about your rights."

Oh, I see what this is now. You're old and lonely and desperate for even the vaguest of human interaction, but you're also a rude cunt who speaks over people because you think you know best despite not even hearing their arguments. I accept my fate, slipping effortlessly into the role of conversation whore, filling in the empty spaces in her toxic, one sided, conversation with disinterested additions of "Yeah" and "Uh huh", counting down the stops as the self important cunt drawled on about the economy and Brexit. I noticed the two wasps from earlier apparently amend their differences and fly their way out through a window that was slightly more open then the rest due to a missing rubber seal, the lucky cunts...

She's still droning on when my stop comes into view, something about how she "doesn't really get out much these days" but she always enjoys "good conversation with people" when she does when I interrupt her by asking her to press the bell for me. The dusty old cunt actually has the nerve to look rudely startled, like I just told her to fuck off.

I got a Taxi home later. It cost £20 but it was worth every fucking penny.

You managed to shoehorn enough hobby horses in there to fill er....... a bus.

[Guest Lady Penelope]

I have been on four buses today and did not have any problems .. are you sure that this was not a journey in Punkies imaginary Range Rover?

[Ape™️]

For the love of god, nobody else quote this nom. I've just scrolled through around 15 feet of iPhone 6S Plus screen....

[Roadkill]

11 minutes ago, Rick_B said:

You managed to shoehorn enough hobby horses in there to fill er....... a bus.

My literary genius is the only thing that comes close to my artistic genius. It's natural to feel overwhelmed in the presence of greatness.

[Roadkill]

12 minutes ago, The Lady Penelope said:

I have been on four buses today and did not have any problems .. are you sure that this was not a journey in Punkies imaginary Range Rover?

Why in the name of fuck would you willingly ride on the bus four times?! If you don't see that as torture then you must be part of the problem, Pen.

[Guest deebom]

I enjoyed that, good little read. But it's your own fault for boarding a bus, you stupid cunt.

I bet you live somewhere dreadful and provincial, with really shit bus services too. 

[Guest nobgobbler]

2 hours ago, Roadkill said:

The condensed version:

I got on a bus. It was fucking horrible. Some old cunt got talking to me about the elections. I died a bit inside.

Or:

I got on a stinking bus. Never again.

[Guest nobgobbler]

17 minutes ago, Roadkill said:

Why in the name of fuck would you willingly ride on the bus four times?! If you don't see that as torture then you must be part of the problem, Pen.

Ask her if she was wearing carpet slippers today.

[Roadkill]

7 minutes ago, deebom said:

I enjoyed that, good little read. But it's your own fault for boarding a bus, you stupid cunt.

I bet you live somewhere dreadful and provincial, with really shit bus services too. 

I... live in Newcastle.

[Guest deebom]

Just now, Roadkill said:

I... live in Newcastle.

Where?

[Roadkill]

Just now, deebom said:

Where?

Just after Wallsend. The Romans would consider me a Scott. The cunts.

[Guest Spanky]

2 hours ago, Roadkill said:

The condensed version:

I got on a bus. It was fucking horrible. Some old cunt got talking to me about the elections. I died a bit inside.

This version is much better you bus riding cunt. You should try getting the train in the morning to a proper city. You have to listen to cunts literally explaining as loud as they can, either to the talking clock on their phone or the pin striped cunt next to them, how big a cunt they are. And it stinks of piss, bum and a little bit of fanny. And it costs like a billion, squintillion pounds.

[Roadkill]

2 minutes ago, Spanky said:

This version is much better you bus riding cunt. You should try getting the train in the morning to a proper city. You have to listen to cunts literally explaining as loud as they can, either to the talking clock on their phone or the pin striped cunt next to them, how big a cunt they are. And it stinks of piss, bum and a little bit of fanny. And it costs like a billion, squintillion pounds.

I took a train to Edinburgh once. The train ride was the best fucking part.

[Earl of Punkape]

2 hours ago, Witheredscrote said:

What is public transport?

Indeed ? 

When I'm in London I drive or walk.

[Ape™️]

4 minutes ago, Punkape said:

Indeed ? 

When I'm in London I drive or walk.

Range Rover?

[Guest deebom]

4 minutes ago, Punkape said:

Indeed ? 

When I'm in London I drive or walk.

As if you come to London you cunt.