Thursday, August 13, 2009

Picture the scene.

On a London Bendy bus, passengers are all going about their own business; some are going home to cook dinner, others are off to work, one young man is perhaps due to meet the father that abandoned him seventeen years ago and has only now crawled back into his life.
You know.
Ordinary, every day stuff.
At the far end of the bus are a gaggle of young girls giggling and screeching loudly enough to drown out the noise from the shared iPod they're listening to.
A few seats away sits a large, well muscled man of possibly African descent. He sits there as if oblivious to his surroundings and is counting out large amounts of money into separate piles until his concentration is broken by one of the girls knocking his arm as she performs a raucous impersonation of Britney and the man yells angrily at her and threatens to throw her off the bus if she comes near him again.
No one else on the bus so much as looks up to check if the girl is alright and the bus driver continues to drive along the Uxbridge Road.
It draws to a halt at the next stop and another large, well muscled man joins the party. This man however is shorter than the African gentleman and is possibly of Neanderthal descent. He sits on the seat behind the African man who has once more settled down to counting his cash.
All is quiet at the back end of the bus until the Neanderthal chap's phone rings, delighting the rest of the passengers with a tinny rendition of 'Que Sera, Sera' until he answers the call and begins to talk to whomever is on the other end of the conversation.
The Neanderthal talks loudly and this breaks the African chap's concentration for a second time, and this vexes him somewhat.
The African chap stands up and turns around to stare down at the Neanderthal on the seat behind him who continues to talk into his phone.
The African chap glowers menacingly at the Neanderthal and hisses loudly at him to 'Shut the F*ck' up if he doesn't want his arm broken.
The Neanderthal calmly continues to chat while opening his jacket to reveal an incredibly sharp looking eight inch blade, which in another light and setting could have looked quite beautiful.
But in the Neanderthal's possession it looks anything but beautiful and the African gentleman quickly decides to allow the Neanderthal to continue his conversation with all limbs intact.
It is said that if you're bored with London, you're bored with life.
I'm most certainly not bored, but on occasion I'm rather more nervous than I used to be.