Tuesday, 11 September 2012

I think catching a bus is a bit like retirement. It doesn't really matter what time it turns up because you can always go and tend your allotment while you are waiting. Or go to the Paris Hilton because there clearly isn't a rush. It's a bit like planting some daffodils, you know they'll grow but just not sure when. Still, It's nice though, after a day at work what better way to spend your leisure time than at the bus stop with some lovely vagabonds and ex pirates, such fantastic people, honestly. Not sure about the spitting Indian waiter though, he seems to have more snot than a human can handle. He could go far with all that in his head, well he did, he cleared 150 yards over the taxi rank and covered a little old lady in mucus, which is snot nice. I dread to think what his house is like, I expect it looks like the Ghostbuters have just slimed the place, which is gooey. Ah hah! The cattle truck has arrived and just for once, there's a nice kid on it but believe you me, there's only so many verses of 'Old Macdonald had a farm' one can take. Germaline is going in to one on her mobile to her poor boyfriend about a row at the bus station. She thinks he should sort it and not be in the xxxxing pub all day. Apparently the 16.12 has been zapped by aliens and the Fat Controller can't find it. Well I believe it...

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