THE BLOG

Your Guide to Annoying People on the Bus

27/03/2014 10:14 GMT | Updated 26/05/2014 10:59 BST

Okay not annoying them...but the other other way round.

Like Spike Lee's aptly titled movie, 'Get on the Bus', I've decided to examine the random characters I always come across on my weekday commute home from making an honest buck. I say honest buck. I mean expenses only internship. (Just kidding London360, I love ya really).

Enjoy the ride...(unlike me as you're about witness)...

The sun peacefully sets (I use 'sun' loosely...this is the UK after all) and the dark wintery sky looms in the horizon. I find myself on a journey. Not an inner peace, bong smoking hippie epiphany type of journey, no...I'm talking about the hellish, frustrating journey home from a hard day's work as a London360 reporter; more specifically...the doomed 92 bus ride from Greenford station all the way to my humble abode near Sudbury Hill.

Welcome to my nightmare.

Now let me just tell you this. I'm, by nature, a laid back guy. I like making people laugh with idiotic puns and silly, childish banter. I'm relatively easy going. But on the way home, between the times of 6 and 7pm, my attitude turns bleak. I turn into the Alice Cooper song title, 'No More Mr. Nice Guy'...

2014-03-26-london263671_640.jpg

Photo supplied by Fez Sayed

As I arrive at the bus station, I see nothing but a Zombie apocalypse. Lifeless drones standing in line, waiting to board their ticket outta' here. They're total pavement imperialists. Their feet are shackled firmly to the ground. The noise of the oncoming cars is drowned out by their sighs and moans as their patience is tested. I near them and I have now become one of them. In my head, I wish I was Leon from the Resident Evil games so I could use a chainsaw to carve my way through this influx of mutants.

As the cold wind pierces my uncovered ears, I wait. I wait patiently. When the 92 (might as well be called the 666) finally arrives, the zombies surge forward with their pitchforks, in such immediacy, as if they're some schoolboy matador being chased by a raging bull. The pushing and shoving to tap their oyster cards becomes a total rat race. Their inner Usain Bolt's start to creep out.

'Slow down you morons!', I think. You ain't gonna win an iPad. This isn't Fort Boyard. It's as if a bus seat is a big, juicy steak being dangled in front of them. From their expression all I see is their tongues wagging more than Miley Cyrus or that dog from 'Tom & Jerry'.

Man, I feel as if I'm in a time warp. I'm about to be in a traffic soaked portal of a fiery hell where Lucifer will mockingly laugh at my misery, curling his oily, black moustache...whilst probably playing uno or something with Jimmy Saville.

When we are all crammed in like a human Subway sandwich, the focus in my eyes become like the Terminator. I scan the bus for human life but I come across the many travel companion stereotypes I want to run away from...

-The 2 seat fat guy: his overly rotund cheeks take up two whole seats because clearly 'salad' isn't in his copy of the dictionary. (unless it's a medical condition, then sorry bro').

-TWO pushchairs and crying babies: there should actually be a whole separate bus for this. In peak time, it's just no-no. As Billy Shakespeare once said in 'A Midsummer Nights Scream': ''Head doth' ache and blood doth boil. Mothers they shout when kids thou soil'. Only I feel like the ending of 'Romeo & Juliet' at the sight of these devil carts.

-The loud music guy/gal: has this douche not heard of headphones? No one wants to hear your distorted Blackberry Curve from 2008 blare these irritating R & B songs. Go save your tears for your bedroom. Hell, you're probably making the babies cry! The only 'Beats' he deserves are from the back of my hand. And why is it always urban-ish music kids bust out? I'd love to see some posh Harrow school boy, rocking Pavarotti on full volume and head banging to it and annoying everyone.

-The loud teens overdoing the slang: Blud. Cuz, Fam...if your mouth was a remote, please put it on mute. And it's 7pm. Why are you still in uniform and what are you even doing? Why aren't you at home doing your homework?. Here's an equation: High school teen + Literacy = better job prospects in the future.

-The uncoordinated fool: Why oh why doesn't this guy use the handles!? This isn't a balancing beam and the Olympics have come and gone. It's like when the bus jerks, he's playing a solo game of hopscotch. You're a grown man, not a 7 year old girl. Learn to hold on my man. Not just to your dreams, but the bar mounted on the wall of the bus.

-Idiot with the massive broadsheet newspaper: Reading is a wonderful activity. However reading a paper the size of Slough and holding it like you're showing off your newly acquired Wimbledon trophy isn't. Fold it for God sake! Why are you swatting my face every time you turn the page? I'm not a damn fly.

Huh...fly. I wish I could sometimes.

Over N' Out.