On The Buses

Maybe the reason that nobody with money uses public transport is that there are some really weird people on buses. It’s like a musty sitcom; there are the few regular characters, the Joeys and Phoebes – and the fringe cast, the Mikes and the Franks. There’s always a couple of Old Dears who look disapprovingly at every young person that walks past, whatever they’re wearing or listening to. It’s like they’re trying to suck the youth out of them through their eyes. Then there’s Suspicious Suit Guy. It’s only suspicious because people who wear nice suits should also have nice cars and all the trimmings. Therefore there’s something pitiful about a businessperson on the bus – admittedly they could just be going “eco-friendly” or could be a fledgling entrepreneur, but it’s doubtful. They just look too down-and-out. For all you know they could be international assassins… or wealthy tramps.

There’s the Heavy Metal Dude – not actually a rockstar, but an overweight, balding sweaty man who still insists on listening to symphonic black metal in the room he’s had at his parents house since he was born. He’ll leer at the girls, sneer at the boys and in general think he’s the coolest cat to wear Goth-pants since Ozzy Osborne. Watch out for World of Warcraft merchandise interspersed with a band t-shirt (invariably black, to mask the sweat marks) bearing the name “Social Dismemberment”, accompanied with a Photoshop-created image of a corpse. Understandably, he’s the last person everyone sits next to, just after Suspicious Suit Guy.

At the back of the bus there are several options. You could end up with Rowdy Year Ten Kids, who insist on playing the latest chart music from a cheap iPod speaker, squabbling in their blazers. Or alternatively you could have Rowdy Chav Kids, who insist on playing the latest drum n’ bass/trance/hip-hop music from an ever cheaper iPod speaker or the classic scally favourite, your mobile. Both will swear and use the latest playground slang and delight in defacing the lives of others. If you’re lucky, they might even venture a conversation with you (if you’re sat too close), usually asking “where yoo from mayte” or “iziiiiiiiiiiiiiit”. A new take on this one is the Chav Mum-And-Dad duo, who walk onto the bus just lighting the kindling of domestic-argument fires and leaving it in a state of divorce and/or child (and woman) beating frenzy.

Often, there’s Neighbourhood Drug Runner – you’ll recognise him with his shaved head, bloodshot eyes, Baltimore-inspired slang and aspirations to be 50 Cent (who he may or may not refer lovingly to as “Fiddy”). Ideally, he’ll entertain himself by making fun of his henchmen (who are smaller and have more GCSE’s than him– which is a real achievement), though he might try to sell you some self-raising flour in a bag marked “Coke”.

A final addition (usually a late-night attraction) is the Surly Drunk. Somehow finding the willpower (and change) to get onto the bus, they usually collapse in a alcohol sodden mess right next to you. Even if the bus is empty, they want human company – whether to show you war medals or pictures of their numerous children, or to complain about how “the nanny state is letting muslims steal our MP’s” (for a more diverse range of subversive bollocks, see the Daily Mail).

A usual episode including the above cast might go vaguely like this: Old Dear frowns disapprovingly at Rowdy Year Ten Kids, who chastise Heavy Metal Dude for his existence. Rowdy Chav Kids threaten them with their dangerous reps, but soon clear off when they realise there is a very real chance of Neighbourhood Drug Runner pulling out a knife. Suspicious Suit Guy huddles into his window away from Heavy Metal Dude’s stench, whilst Surly Drunk mistakenly recognises Neighbourhood Drug Runner for Barack Obama. Old Dear realises that she was meant to get off two miles ago, and the driver professes a deep desire to drive the bus off of a steep cliff.