Sitting at the back of the bus
I used to get the bus to school. Every day about 120 of us would pile on to a bus meant to hold at most 80 and we’d ride the 20 minutes or so to our treasured seat of learning. Luckily for me our year had been able to claim the back of the bus for our own, almost entirely through sheer force of numbers, and it was a great prize. This was back when I was young enough to want to sit at the back of the bus, rather than avoid it as I do now because it’s full of drug addicts and would-be muggers and whatever. Anyway, when we were in 4th year a stupid 1st year started coming up the back of the bus and talking to us for no good reason. He was a cocky kid and he had absolutely no reason to be, which meant that all of the blokes thought he was a dick and all of the girls thought he was cute. Why the girls even tolerated him I’ll never know, but my fifteen years of experience since has shown that being a cocky git with nothing to say doesn’t get the knock-backs from women that it should.

One afternoon the annoying midget makes his unjustified journey to the back of the bus, sits next to my best mate and starts talking to me.

“You see that girl down there, the one with the blonde hair? She fancies you.”

“Really?” says I, in my best passive- aggressive sod-off-without-actually-being-rude tone.

“Yes,” replies the little squirt, now starting to snigger at the comedic genius he is about to unveil. “Her name is Jo. Jo King.”

“Her?” I said, “Yeah, I know her. I’m friends with her brother NoSmo.”

At this point my mate starts snorting with laughter, nearly rupturing himself in the process I think, and the face of the little sod falls into a look I shall never forget. His face somehow conveyed in equal parts his confusion over me knowing a fictional character from his joke, anger that his brilliantly clever insult had somehow been turned back against him, and frustration over the fact that my mate is laughing at him and he doesn’t have a clue as to why. With nothing left to say the little so-and-so went towards the front of the bus and he never spoke to me again.

I can count on one hand the number of times my brain has been quick enough to come up with a response on the spot like that. Never before or since though has it given me such a warm glow of happiness inside and simultaneously had the benefit of getting such an irritating person out of my life for good.
( GarbageFan didn't know what to have as a board sig on, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 20:25, 2 replies)

Yeah, great, innit?
A few years ago I had an ancient camper van. While it was at my brother's for yet another major repair, his neighbour backed his van into it, ripping off an external metal strip.

When he jumped out and ran round to inspect the damage and apologise, I held up the broken part and wailed 'You bastard! You stuffed my funky strut!'

All three of us were laughing like fools for ten minutes, as we stuck it back on.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Wed 4 Feb 2009, 2:50, closed)

that reminds me...
..how were schools consistently able to violate maximum occupancy, on the coaches used to ferry us to and from swimming lessons? Three squeezed onto two seats was the norm. So even if there had been seatbelts, no-one could have used them.
(The Incredible Sulk Finally remembered his password on, Wed 4 Feb 2009, 8:20, closed)