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"Driver!" came a rasping voice at St. Enoch square. "Gonnae wait on ma burd? She's just come oot the fuckin' hospital and she cannae run! Gonnae wait on her, big man? Eh? Hurry up, for fuck's sake!" he shouted over his shoulder.

Every time I drive through the city centre, I always seem to pick up someone whom I fear will ultimately become a nuisance to other passengers. They are usually quite easy to spot (and smell). But even on the rare occasions when their appearance and odour are quite inconspicuous, their untamed potty-mouth will always give them away.

"Fuckin' mooooove!" he yelled up the street. I think tonight's someone was going to be he.

He was a bumbling little junkie who was weighed down by several plastic bags containing the day's thievings. Although he considered himself to be quite normal and just like everybody else going about their daily business, his ragged countenance suggested much hidden knavery. Indeed, his face itself seemed to have bits missing from it. It was as though he had an attack of the midnight-munchies last night but couldn't be bothered walking to the fridge. Those terrible corrugations in his chin should really have just been teeth marks in the cheese.

His "burd" eventually dithered into view. Like her fella', she probably considered herself to be just another normal pedestrian making for the bus. But what the world actually saw was an unkempt ratty calamity, as pale as a geisha but not nearly so willing to please. She bumbled along, banging into lamp posts and street signs as one eye chased the other around her head in a googly methadone waltz. This gaunt hustler was a twiggy artist's easel, draped in threadbare denims with Edward Munch's The Scream cross-eyed upon it's shelf.

At last, the Face Muncher and The Scream stepped on to the bus. Without so much as a nod or a wink, The Scream floated right past me and took herself up to the back of the top deck. Face Muncher put his bags down and made as if to search his pockets for change, "Right, where the fuck is it? [grope] I've got ma change here somewhere, driver. We're goin' tae Summerston, by the way. [grope] See, she's just oot the fuckin' hospital an' that, know what I mean? I've had tae go up tae the hospital tae get her. There was all that shit goin' on, an' [grope] she's got her ain weans in that other hospital, that's where we're goin' later oan. Whit's it called? I'll have tae get everythin' fuckin' sorted for that, anyway. [grope] Need tae go up an' see her fuckin' Feether in all. Fuckin' bastard, where's ma fuckin' change?"

Hmmm. Anyone who can transform the simple purchase of a bus ticket into an expletive-rich soliloquy will always merit special attention on my vehicle. Just as well my CCTV monitor was working so I could keep an eye on him and his shenanigans. But secretly, I knew that he did not have any intention of actually buying a bus ticket. He had other skills that a smack habit had sharpened:

"Just let us put these bags up the stairs the noo, driver, and I'll look for ma change, eh? Aye, that's what I'll dae! Back in a minute!" and with that, he gathered up his thievings and humped them up the stairs. And up the stairs he stayed.

I closed the doors and set off, deciding that if he did not come back down with their full fares within two stops, I would eject them both and have a radio call put out to warn other drivers not to pick them up. Yes, it would give me perverse pleasure to ban them from every bus in the fleet at a single stroke and have them marooned in the city centre and...[Aaaaarg!]...and...[Whooaaarg!]...and...what the?...right, who the hell was doing all that screaming?

Turned right into Jamaica Street and heard the most terrible whooping and yelling coming from upstairs. A quick scan of the CCTV monitor showed that The Scream was on her feet, and yes, she was screaming: "I am NOT a tramp!" she protested, "I am a lady and you will treat me like a lady!" Well! I didn't have any spaghetti for them to reenact that iconic scene, but, both being loathsome wretches, maybe a length of ticket roll would suffice. Not as romantic, but infinitely more chewable.

The Face Muncher merely offered his middle finger and a shrill laugh, which rang throughout the whole bus. Affronted, The Scream immediately turned about and shambled for the stair-well with, "You're nothin' but a wee fuckin' wanker!" But by the time her spindly legs brought her down to the lower deck, the Face Muncher was up, out of his seat and quickly on her tail.

"A fuckin' lady?" he called, "Fuckin' look at ye! Have ye seen yersel'? Yer a fuckin' monster!"

"Nooooo! Get away frae' me!" hooted The Scream. "Driver! Open the door, let me away from that cunt!"

Only too willing to oblige, I pulled into the stop at McDonalds and opened the door. The Scream bolted like a whippet from a trap and continued to shout obscenities from further down the street. The Face Muncher, however, remained on the bus, standing on the platform with a can of Tennent's in hand, bellowing ferocious perversions while crowds of people stopped and stared.

"Pooh!" he hollered, wafting his hand under his nose as if consumed by a sudden stench, "Yer fanny's mingin'! [waft] [waft] Yer fanny's mingin'!"

"Oh my God! You're gettin' stabbed! I'm gonna get Jamesie tae stab yoo, ya cunt! You're gettin' rubbed oot!" screeched The Scream.

"Ye've got crabs an' yer fanny's mingin'! Pooh! [waft] I can smell ye' frae' here!" shouted the Face Muncher even louder, just in case anyone on Jamaica Street missed it.

"You're fuckin' deid!" she replied.

Eventually, The Scream scuttled out of sight and the Face Muncher took himself and his beverage back upstairs. He seemed quite pleased with himself as he sipped at the dregs and made small talk with whoever would listen. Rather strange behaviour for a man who'd just been mortally cursed. But I believe his smugness stemmed from the knowledge that only an insult that cuts to the rawest nerve has the power to illicit a death threat. And, based on their exchanges across Jamaica Street tonight, I'd say he had penetrated to the rawest, most unsanitary nerve she had. Bullseye!