It’s been a while since I chastised a public service, or an entire continent – so I just thought I’d get this off my chest. Buses.
What’s worse; a bus driver who never lets anyone on, or one who lets everyone on? THE LATTER and here’s why. When I’m on the bus, I don’t really care about anyone else getting on. Selfish, perhaps, but commuting in London requires a degree of focus and single-minded bastardness (“get out of my way you suit/beggar/pushchair/”). Bah. Pushchairs – that’s for next month, definately. Their owners think they have licence to rip your ankles to shreds, repeatedly, so long as little Johnny doesn’t have to walk a few metres, I mean honestly – get out of my bloody way.
On my very lengthy journey home of at least two miles, the 72 was driven by the world’s chattiest driver. Normally I’d welcome such a cheery and charitable fellow – but I was in a rush to get back home, get the kettle on and have my seventh cup of tea. (as it was, I ended up in the pub, but that’s by the by). Everyone was allowed on the bus. Everyone. It was heaving and groaning under the sweaty mass of countless exhausted workers and grotty teenagers.
Just when one of Transport for London’s Arks was about to buckle, the driver would notice a couple more people furiously waving their Oyster cards and unread-but-nevertheless-crumpled newspapers, demanding that the Ark stopped to allow them aboard. And it worked! On they came, usually in twos (just to really piss me off). The doors shut, handbrake lifted and off we went. NO! More. Brakes slammed on, door opened – and best of all, the apparently chipper driver hurried them on, “Quickly, quick quick, come on”. Needless to say, my silent prayers that he would ignore the fledgling, desperate commuters fell on deaf ears.
I have never seen a bus so full. Thankfully, I’m tall enough to rise above the smell of London’s armpits. Unfortunately for everyone else, I had a very late and drunken evening last night and didn’t have a shower this morning, so unleashed my whiff on the greedy buggers delaying my journey.
God this is fun, ranting without cause or reason. I’ll promise to limit it to once a month. Meanwhile – aren’t England rubbish at the moment?
Disclaimer: despite today’s trouble, I actually have very very few problems with London’s transport system. The Tube is still better suited for Noah’s flock than us lot – ha! well no! Because actually, cattle can’t be transported over 30c or something, and the Tube in the summer rises to an Egyptian 39c – but it does work, for me. And the buses, while crammed, hardly ever let me down.