12 January 2012
No
talk of diets today as I have a BW story.
For those new to my Facebook, (namely Judith from work who thinks I download this crap I talk from the internet. Hi Judith) a BW is a ‘Bus wanker’ i.e. a person who uses the bus, this includes myself. A more in depth description is given in my BW Trilogy sometime back in October I think.
Anyhow I boarded my homeward bus last night and found the downstairs full with some standing. I went upstairs and saw that strangely the front two rows were empty apart from one guy in the front left but the rest of the top floor full.
By good fortune the front right hand seat is my favourite so first checking no one had pooped, peed or puked on it I settled myself down. It was at this point the smell of drink hit me and I glanced across at my travelling companion and saw that he was staring back. He was quite obviously completely blocked and his wee head was rocking on his shoulders as he tried to get me in focus.
I could tell a comment was forming in his head and eventually after some difficulty he shouted, and I do mean shouted “Fuck off”. He had a portable CD player (Yes those do still exist) and earphones in and I could still clearly hear the music and immediately after shouting this he began to clap, in the same sort of way that seals do, in time with the music and sing tunelessly.
Now you have to understand there are various types of BW and at this time of the day we are Commuter BW’s. I have explained the rules before, but talking of any kind, singing and certainly clapping like a moron are frowned upon and being drunk is an absolute no no. I looked back at the other passengers and did a nod and raised eyebrows in the direction of ‘Michael Buble’ in a ‘what a plonker sort of way’ but received no response.
He had now moved on to shouting ‘Fuck Off’ in time with the music and tapping his foot, as only a drunk can do, by lifting the whole leg up and down and I think the other passengers were in a mild state of shock. BW’s are just like any other animal and we like life to have a consistency. Any change from the norm is greeted with a mild case of panic as we desperately try to work out how to deal with an unexpected situation. My fellow BW’s had in this instance chosen the ostrich option to completely ignore what was happening and hope it would just go away.
My drunken friend had, however, no intention of either going away or being sober and was now topping himself up with large mouthfuls of a particularly good vintage of ‘Buckfast’. He then decided to change the CD in his player which was highly entertaining and he swore unceasingly at it when his hands wouldn't do what his brain instructed. Eventually he got the music going and began giving us his own rendition of the well-known Take That song ‘Fuck Off’.
This continued the whole way home punctuated by slugs of booze and loud snorting noises which were invariably followed by him spitting out some globular substance on the floor. If at any time he caught my eye the ‘Fuck offs’ got louder and the clapping was done in my direction and I smiled and nodded my appreciation of this more personalized performance.
Eventually we neared the end of the journey and he suddenly shut up and started staring out the windows and looking a little confused. Then as nice as you like and as if the last 25mins hadn’t happened he turned to me and asked “Is this Dundonald mate?”. I like an idiot just replied “Yes” and will always regret not coming out with the more appropriate response of “Fuck Off".
For those new to my Facebook, (namely Judith from work who thinks I download this crap I talk from the internet. Hi Judith) a BW is a ‘Bus wanker’ i.e. a person who uses the bus, this includes myself. A more in depth description is given in my BW Trilogy sometime back in October I think.
Anyhow I boarded my homeward bus last night and found the downstairs full with some standing. I went upstairs and saw that strangely the front two rows were empty apart from one guy in the front left but the rest of the top floor full.
By good fortune the front right hand seat is my favourite so first checking no one had pooped, peed or puked on it I settled myself down. It was at this point the smell of drink hit me and I glanced across at my travelling companion and saw that he was staring back. He was quite obviously completely blocked and his wee head was rocking on his shoulders as he tried to get me in focus.
I could tell a comment was forming in his head and eventually after some difficulty he shouted, and I do mean shouted “Fuck off”. He had a portable CD player (Yes those do still exist) and earphones in and I could still clearly hear the music and immediately after shouting this he began to clap, in the same sort of way that seals do, in time with the music and sing tunelessly.
Now you have to understand there are various types of BW and at this time of the day we are Commuter BW’s. I have explained the rules before, but talking of any kind, singing and certainly clapping like a moron are frowned upon and being drunk is an absolute no no. I looked back at the other passengers and did a nod and raised eyebrows in the direction of ‘Michael Buble’ in a ‘what a plonker sort of way’ but received no response.
He had now moved on to shouting ‘Fuck Off’ in time with the music and tapping his foot, as only a drunk can do, by lifting the whole leg up and down and I think the other passengers were in a mild state of shock. BW’s are just like any other animal and we like life to have a consistency. Any change from the norm is greeted with a mild case of panic as we desperately try to work out how to deal with an unexpected situation. My fellow BW’s had in this instance chosen the ostrich option to completely ignore what was happening and hope it would just go away.
My drunken friend had, however, no intention of either going away or being sober and was now topping himself up with large mouthfuls of a particularly good vintage of ‘Buckfast’. He then decided to change the CD in his player which was highly entertaining and he swore unceasingly at it when his hands wouldn't do what his brain instructed. Eventually he got the music going and began giving us his own rendition of the well-known Take That song ‘Fuck Off’.
This continued the whole way home punctuated by slugs of booze and loud snorting noises which were invariably followed by him spitting out some globular substance on the floor. If at any time he caught my eye the ‘Fuck offs’ got louder and the clapping was done in my direction and I smiled and nodded my appreciation of this more personalized performance.
Eventually we neared the end of the journey and he suddenly shut up and started staring out the windows and looking a little confused. Then as nice as you like and as if the last 25mins hadn’t happened he turned to me and asked “Is this Dundonald mate?”. I like an idiot just replied “Yes” and will always regret not coming out with the more appropriate response of “Fuck Off".
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