Bustards
London, in case you don’t know, is undergoing a revolution.
Having allegedly invented the underground train network (if you’re really, really interested, look here), like many sports, we’re finally acknowledging that we’re, like many sports, crap at it.
So our esteemed Mayor is, among others, deciding it’s far easier to get us on to buses instead.
And it’s therefore thanks to an intense recruitment drive that our streets are, indeed, infested with more buses, and the lowlife that have responded to the incentive to drive them.
Which – don’t get me wrong – is good. Because I use buses more. Regularly. And it helps get me round our big city quicker.
Yet you can’t help noticing the descending quality, along with the increasing quantity, of bus-drivers.
Too many are controlled by the apparently addicted to tourettes-like ‘accelerate/brake’ school of driving.
Start. Accelerate, quickly. Stop. Thunder forward. Review mayhem in mirror. Brake, sharply. Accelerate, again unnecessarily quickly.
Whatever happened to ‘Mirror, Signal, Manoeuvre’?
I only report this because, of course, I personally was only minutes ago subject to the nearest I can describe as a reverse gravitational field as descending the steps of the Number 12.
I grant you this experience was not interesting, nor revelationary, but through its sheer unpleasantness I feel dutybound to report its dangers.
We Brits (well, English, specifically) are either tarred as hooligans, or constantly drinking tea with the Queen, so it seems London’s Bus Drivers are taking the safe middle-ground.
This has got to stop. I could have taken someone’s eye out. So just ask our drivers take more care.
Hear hear! I was about to suggest to London Transport they could sell attraction tickets to go for a ride on the red busses. I mean, it beats any rollercoaster I’ve been on.
I preferred the Underground the few times I was in London. And the busses might be a scary attraction but as a big city American who is not easily scared by driving antics, the thought of a 3:30am cab ride through London turns me white. That was without a doubt the second scariest cab ride in my life. Paris gets top nods for scariest just because we lost a side view mirror in the trip. Actual damage to the vehicle gets big points :-)
“lowlife”?
Too big and clever for public transport, are we?
Dear Unlucky Man,
Mmmm. We could, though, designate terms such as
Maybe if you don’t like the people who keep London going, you know where the exit is. Perhaps some thought before typing next time?
Mind you, if everyone here did that, we’d probably only be left with our South African cutie.
I’d hoped the term “lowlife” – and for that matter the poor headline – would be interpreted as obviously ridiculous descriptions. Bus-driving’s a tough job: my (only) serious point was my opinion there’s increasingly more bad drivers. And of course I’m not too big or clever for public transport; the post after all refers to my experience of buses, and the underground. Hope this clears up any genuinely unintended offence caused.
bwing bcak crisohpeer
hahaha!
Just read the comments from Anonymous.
“You know where the exit is”? Priceless pomposity.
Non-Anonymous JonnyB