Friday, January 15, 2016

nutters and numbers


Had two memorable conversations this week. One with my son; one with a nutter.
I do live in London, after all.


Peas: One.

Sebastian: DOO.

Peas: Three.

Sebastian: Six!

Peas: Four.

Sebastian: Six!

Peas: Five.

Sebastian: SIX!

Peas: Seven.

Sebastian: EIGHT.

Peas: Nine.

Sebastian: NINE.

Peas: Ten.

His preference may be even numbers, but he is definitely slotting them in there. The boy is a-counting.

Then on the number 35, which I was thankfully on for all of seven minutes:

Man with massive man bun gets on, he's rotund. And he's bashing into people, being loud, barking into a mobile phone, and all around I'm seeing red flags being raised in the eyeballs of the weary Londoners on the bus. You can see it behind their dead eyes.

He's being loud, but I'm listening to some banging Rudimental on my iPod, so I can see his mouth moving, but nothing more.

Then a woman moves, and suddenly it's just me and him alone, in the standing area. Still, I'm on my phone, the beats are in my ears, I'm doing what London commuters do best: ignoring everyone around them.

I look up, as it appears that he is addressing me. He's talking, non-stop, so I take an earbud out and say, "Sorry, I can't hear you.....anything the matter?"

Man: WAS JUST SAYING THAT I NEED TO GET OFF THE BUS SOON BECAUSE PEOPLE ON BUSES REALLY WIND ME UP.

Peas: Right, ok. [Standard response when you know this conversation has only but just begun, but you know it'll be a long one.]

Man: YEAH, IT'S BETTER IF I GET OFF OTHERWISE I JUST START FIGHTS AND MY PSYCHIATRIST SAID I NEED TO DISEMBARK WHEN I WANT TO SMACK SOMEONE'S FACE.

Peas: ....Yes.....probably safer to just get off then?

[Start looking around feverishly for the bell, as luckily my stop happens to be the next one. Everyone else avoiding eye contact, but shuffling uncomfortably]

Man: NO IT'S NOT THAT IT'S SAFER, BUT IT'S JUST BETTER. IT'S BETTER, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?

Peas: [Oh God]
Whatever makes you happy, you should probably do. Except start a fight.

Ding........ Ding Ding Ding!

Criminally long pause.

I hope to fuck my ringing the bell doesn't set him off on a killing rampage.

Man: I DON'T WANT TO GET TO THAT POINT LIKE LAST WEEK WHEN SOMONE ASKED ME IF I WAS A FUCKING WOMAN AND I'M LIKE NO, I'M A FUCKING MAN, JUST BECAUSE I HAVE A PONYTAIL DOESN'T MEAN FUCK!

[Pause]

I ENDED UP TELLING THE WOMAN THAT HER BABY HAD A FACE LIKE A BULLDOG. AND IT ALL KICKED OFF.

Peas: [So uncomfortable right now]
Yeah.....ok....anyway, it's my stop soon [not fucking soon enough] so, best of luck...!!

MAN: YOU KNOW SOMEONE GOT STABBED ON THIS VERY BUS RECENTLY.

Peas: BYE THEN!

I got off and pissed myself laughing. What else does one do? [Once they've escaped certain death?]

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