I’d some muppet beside me on the 78 this evening, he was well worse then Hitler, you wouldn’t find hitler listening to blaring jungle music at 5.30pm!!
You get on a bus and sit on a seat. The bus the bus then becomes packed and some random stranger sits beside you. You are going all the way to the last stop and it just so happens that as the bus empties with each stop you realise that this stranger could be going most of the way also. What annoys me about this is that as the bus empties and seats become free, the stranger stays in his/her seat and doesnt move to any of many seats that become available. I was once on a bus that became totally empty on the top deck and yet this tit stayed beside me for the whole journey!
I tend to do that myself, I start to go on a mad OCD phase of what will the person think of me if I move seats, so I stay there and make the situation worse!
yes i’ve been in that situation also and the best way to avoid any awkwardness is to slump into the next seat as if you had just been overcome with a wave of tiredness and needed to slouch over the double seat.
Different rules if it’s a bird beside you of course!
My most excruiating bus incident was about 18 months ago when on the way to Lansdowne for a Six Nations game. Somebody going to the match rang me and I briefly chatted to them about where their tickets were for and where I’d meet them after for a pint. Upon finishing my call, this big fat weirdo who’d got on at the same stop, gets up from his seat and comes down and sits in beside me. Right away I knew I was in trouble.
I get the 10 from up around the Phoenix Park and it tends to have a very high ratio of weirdos due to the route’s proximity to Grangegorman and the fact there’s a lot of hostels and sheltered accommodation on the NCR. However, that wasn’t the reason I’d clocked this fella as a bit odd at the bus-stop. You’d have known him a mile off. Big and fat with an awkward bowler haircut and non-shiny tracksuit bottoms with black shoes.
Anyway, he plonks himself in beside me and says “so you’re going to the game? I’d love to go but it’s too expensive”. I thought he might start having a go at me for how I could afford tickets or something and just mumbled some reply about the tickets being very dear these days and he goes “well it’s not that I don’t have the money, it’s just they won’t release it to me”. I should have spotted the obvious danger in this but I was flustered I guess and stuck for something to say I asked was it a problem with his bank. “No,” he replied, “its St Brendans Psychiatric Hospital. Well, they call it a hospital, but I call it a fucking morgue. The only way you leave is in a wooden box.”
At this stage I obviously thought Oh bollocks. However, I was really late and didn’t have time to get off the bus. I didn’t want to move seats on the bus in case I offended him. He was a huge guy, and had me kind of wedged into the wall but I figured the chances of him actually doing something violent, or worse untoward, were probably pretty slim, so I thought I could chance waiting it out for another ten minutes until Baggot Street Bridge.
I attempted to strike up a bit of banal converation in order to keep the subject away from his self-professed mental illness and treatment of same. After about five minutes of the most inane prattle about the weather and how bad the traffic is these days, I eventually just ran out of stuff to say. There was a silence between us for about twenty dreadfully long seconds and then he just goes “They do experiments on me at night. My penis is shrunk away to nothing.”
Well. There was nothing to say to that. I just sat there. Stared straight ahead with a blank expression on my face. Then it slowly dawned on me that the main danger was his attempting to verify his allegations. To my blessed relief, he completely changed tack and politely asked me “so where you getting off?” Understandably distracted perhaps, I said “Baggot Street Bridge” to which he replied “Me too!”
We sat in painful silence for another five minutes and then I got off one stop before Baggot Street Bridge and he stayed on.
The fella sitting behind me must have been thinking “oh this is a fucking classic.”
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Fats wrote:
My most excruiating bus incident was about 18 months ago when on the way to Lansdowne for a Six Nations game. Somebody going to the match rang me and I briefly chatted to them about where their tickets were for and where I’d meet them after for a pint. Upon finishing my call, this big fat weirdo who’d got on at the same stop, gets up from his seat and comes down and sits in beside me. Right away I knew I was in trouble.
I get the 10 from up around the Phoenix Park and it tends to have a very high ratio of weirdos due to the route’s proximity to Grangegorman and the fact there’s a lot of hostels and sheltered accommodation on the NCR. However, that wasn’t the reason I’d clocked this fella as a bit odd at the bus-stop. You’d have known him a mile off. Big and fat with an awkward bowler haircut and non-shiny tracksuit bottoms with black shoes.
Anyway, he plonks himself in beside me and says “so you’re going to the game? I’d love to go but it’s too expensive”. I thought he might start having a go at me for how I could afford tickets or something and just mumbled some reply about the tickets being very dear these days and he goes “well it’s not that I don’t have the money, it’s just they won’t release it to me”. I should have spotted the obvious danger in this but I was flustered I guess and stuck for something to say I asked was it a problem with his bank. “No,” he replied, “its St Brendans Psychiatric Hospital. Well, they call it a hospital, but I call it a fucking morgue. The only way you leave is in a wooden box.”
At this stage I obviously thought Oh bollocks. However, I was really late and didn’t have time to get off the bus. I didn’t want to move seats on the bus in case I offended him. He was a huge guy, and had me kind of wedged into the wall but I figured the chances of him actually doing something violent, or worse untoward, were probably pretty slim, so I thought I could chance waiting it out for another ten minutes until Baggot Street Bridge.
I attempted to strike up a bit of banal converation in order to keep the subject away from his self-professed mental illness and treatment of same. After about five minutes of the most inane prattle about the weather and how bad the traffic is these days, I eventually just ran out of stuff to say. There was a silence between us for about twenty dreadfully long seconds and then he just goes “They do experiments on me at night. My penis is shrunk away to nothing.”
Well. There was nothing to say to that. I just sat there. Stared straight ahead with a blank expression on my face. Then it slowly dawned on me that the main danger was his attempting to verify his allegations. To my blessed relief, he completely changed tack and politely asked me “so where you getting off?” Understandably distracted perhaps, I said “Baggot Street Bridge” to which he replied “Me too!”
We sat in painful silence for another five minutes and then I got off one stop before Baggot Street Bridge and he stayed on.
The fella sitting behind me must have been thinking “oh this is a fucking classic.”
Now that’s the kind of stuff I was looking for when I set up this thread!
Belter.
One of the idiots in work speaks with a seriously skanger accent. I just overheard her on the phone and she just “Dya know what I mean?” except it sounded exactly like “Chow mein” First off I thought she was ordering a chinese but it soon became apparent that she just can’t speak.
Fats wrote:
“They do experiments on me at night. My penis is shrunk away to nothing.”
There are not enough exalts for that story…
On a nightlink home after work one night(sober), I sat upstairs. There were large crowds of post witness revellers. One scumbag pulled a can of deodorant from his bag, from his pca a lighter and proceeded to blowtorch the hair of the fellah in the seat immediately ahead of him. I was in the next row back and presumed they must be mates but alas no, a random act of keerrazzy thuggery it was. The torchee was obviously miffed but being way down the social psycho ladder from his assailant had to settle for ‘I was only buzzin with ya’.
I rocked up to the pedestrian crossing there across the road from Davy Stockbrokers yesterday, the traffic was whizzing down towards Nassau Street and I was waiting for the ‘green man’ to let the four or five of us across. I had gone to the left of a dishevelled looking old man, he was already raving quite dementedly about the “fucking traffic”, he carried a walking stick and looked like a more malevalent version of fellas who used to bring milk to the creamery in horse and carts when I was a kid. .He was wearing a flat cap and a big black overcoat. He started abusing me for apparently blocking his view of the traffic acccording to himself, raving away like a lunatic, calling me an “arsehole” etc. You could hear him up on the Green I’d say. I looked at him and smiled silently in a way that seemed to register with him that his rantings caused me not the slightest discomfort. This drove him bonkers with rage. The lights stopped the traffic after about another 30 seconds while he continued to rave “you arsehole” x 20. I found his choice of verbal abuse quite contemporary, I had expected something more antique I must say, given his age. Obviously I was alot faster crossing the road as he was an old man and I ignored his continuing ravings directed at me while being mindful he had a stick in his hand, I was sort of in the mood whereby I’d have welcomed an attack from an old man, so that I could use it as a pretex to breaking his stick. The attack never came but he followed me at a distance in the direction of Duke Street where he continued to roar at me. That shit made my day.
Don’t know how stupid he was but I was on a busy bus to Wexford recently on a Monday morning sitting in front of a settled traveller who was waffling away to two lads beside him, telling them all sorts of crazy shit, loudly, while sweating profusely and also offering to sell them drugs which he had in his bag. This was about 10:30 in the morning. The two lads were coming back from the Roger Waters gig and were terrified. Mad cunt he was and, unsurprisingly, he got off in Arklow.
:lol:
Brilliant.
Whatever happened to Fats? Yer man must have gotten him the end.
Great scene setting there SS*. Is there any chance you would have battered the old lad if he had hit you with the stick?
I don’t know if he was capable of violence,I had sort of dismissed him, dan, he was pathetic and upset, a sad case. I was smiling away while stood right beside him taking the barrage of abuse, so much so that this cute bird on the Hodges Figgis side of the road gave me a smile of her own as we passed each other. It must have been quite the scene. An old guy raving obsenities and a ginger guy right beside him just laughing.
I always get nervous when these very old threads are bumped because I don’t know what kind of shit I’d have been spouting.
Speaking of shit, does anyone know the thread where I described Jugs shitting all over the floor of a bird’s bathroom? I wouldn’t mind finding that to send to people.
It’s fucking hard to find suitable old threads for banal shit like this these days Bandage mate. I have awful trouble finding the Tonight’s TV thread at times.
I think it is the dating thread
Me too pal. “On This Day” causes me severe trouble too.
I did enjoy your story though SS.