Monday, 8 October 2012

Getting on a bus is like getting on an old ambulance but without a sense of urgency. Hand rails, guard rails, rail rails, bendy rails all brightly coloured in disabled yellow. Stirrups, straps and stretchy things dangling from the ceiling. The main difference is that you can get more people in an ambulance than you can in a hopper. And the oxygen masks help on the odd occasion. Snotty the Indian waiter is a seat away from me and despite my man flu remains, I cannot compete with him on the sniffing up one nostril as much toxic mucus as possible in one hit to fill his entire cavity where his brain used to be and then swallow it. And I heard it gloop down. I love buses.....

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