Bloodbus

Poor Fuzzclaw. When I picked up a bus from him at the changeover point he was still moaning because he hadn't finished laying the laminate flooring in his flat. Lethargy was not the culprit but a "gorilla" who lives beneath him that keeps coming up to sort him out every time he starts hammering.

I suggested getting the gorilla out the house for the night by offering him free tickets to Swan Lake. Most gorillas like ballet, don't they? Every time I see a gorilla on TV they are always wearing a tutu. Well, that seems to be all you get when you finish your shift in the wee early hours and have to watch that weird late night crap..

Anyway, I wished Fuzzclaw well and set off into the night. However, I immediately became aware of a loud screeching, wheezing, squawking noise coming from up the back of my bus. Why do punters wait until I take the controls before they start strangling each other? The noise was definitely "of the sea", like if you accidentally stood on the tail of an asthmatic dolphin. So I pulled in to the side of the road thinking that a passenger was choking or fitting or otherwise wretching in pain. I'm not trained in first aid but could certainly get Control to send an ambulance if required.

But I could not see who was floundering. When I turned round everyone was talking quite happily and no aquatic animals required the Heimlich maneouvre. How queer.

So I set off, but there it was again; like Donald Duck deflating with a mouth full of sandpaper. It rasped against my lug holes and became quite unsettling. This time I checked the CCTV monitor in the cab - and there he was!

The gentleman responsible for the racket was a wobbly pensioner who had to plug a hole in his throat with a finger every time he wanted to talk. At least I think he was trying to talk, perhaps all that dolphinesque wheezy-screech was just him hungry and begging for fish.

Poor chap, I imagined he must have been lamed by the dreaded tobacco leaf which claims thousands of Scots every year. A wicked predator is this leaf, but I do have fond memories of my Grandfather blowing smoke rings to amuse me when I was a kid. Likewise, Mr Dolphin probably amuses his Grandchildren by firing his Werther's Originals out of his blowhole. It's all for the kids you know.

Incoming Radio Message: "This is a lost property call from Central Control. We're looking for a bag that has been left on a bus that contains square cut sausage and a pair of new shoes. Contact us if you've got it on your bus. Control out."

That's an unusual combination. The person must have been in the butchers and thought: ""Ooh! I like the calluses and veins on that square cut sausage, which reminds me, I'll have to get a new pair of shoes!" I would recommend a visit to the chiropodist.

At the Clydebank terminus I was busy rummaging through a muppet's hand bag which had been left on the bus when a drunken chuffer wearing a white T-shirt banged on the door. "When you leavin', big man?"

"A couple of minutes," I said and printed his ticket.

"Cheers, mucker! I'm not pissed, by the way," he said and sat down.

I'm not Columbo but I would have to say that the smell of stale beer that clung to his every word did not corroborate this. Just as long as he kept his mouth shut I could get back to my hand bag rummaging. I intended giving the bag in to the depot but I just wanted a sneaky peeky before I did.

And what's this in the bag? A set of house keys. Some poor muppet would right now be sitting on her door step, locked out and weeping.

And a bus pass and a purse. The poor muppet aint' going anywhere other than that cold, hard door step tonight.

And no less than six incontinence pads. Oh, dear! That door step will need disinfecting by tomorrow morning.

Another bang at the door, this time an older guy, and every bit as drunk as the young guy in the white T-shirt. He paid a fare that would only just take him to the end of the road before he sat down. I just knew he was going to say something, and say something he did.

"Fuck sake!" exclaimed the older drunkard.

"What?" said the younger drunkard.

"I'm as drunk as a... I'm as drunk as a... er.." his raddled brain struggled to find a corroborative noun.

"I've had a couple myself," said the young drunkard.

Good, I thought as I set off. At least they are being friends. But then again, on buses things can turn very nasty very quickly.

"Look at you wearing a fuckin' T-shirt on a night like this," said Old Drunky.

"What? You think it's cold?" replied Young Drunky.

"Aye, YOU will be wearing that, you nutter! Where you from anyway?"

"Possil."

"Fuck sake! Possil! What you doin' up here? Most cunts from Possil are too feart to come up here."

"So I'm a cunt am I?"

"You'll be a cold cunt wearing that T-shirt." Then Old Drunkard stood up to get off.

"Don't you stand up to me, ya prick!" shouted Young Drunkard and sprung to his feet, fists at the ready.

"This is my fuckin' stop, you arse hole!" shouted Old Drunkard and shoved Young Drunkard out the way.

And the fight began. Both drunkards pushed, shoved and punched each other up and down the bus in a drunken waltz of hate. Every couple of seconds they banged into a button that rang a bell in the driver's cab signaling a passenger wanted off. I just pulled over and sat in the cab watching this game of human pin-ball: whack! punch! Ding! blam! fist! Ding! biff! shove! Ding!

The jackpot came when Young Drunkard landed a punch square on Old Drunkards nose which instantly burst like an over ripe tomato. Blood squirted out all over Young Drunkard's white T-shirt and made him go all shrieky bananas. Old Drunkard gave a perversely gleeful yelp before running off the bus. Young Drunkard gave chase before deciding that he would rather return and continue his bus journey. I'm afraid not. Not with that much blood on him. I quickly closed the door and made off leaving him standing at the side of the road.

Caution: If you're going to brawl with an old man, don't punch him in the nose, he'll only leave you looking like a discarded Maxi pad.

"Hey! Stop, ya bastard!" shouted Young Drunky as he ran after my bus, but thankfully the lights were at green and I made a swift getaway.

That was definitely the fastest foreplay to a fight I have ever seen. From friends to foes in one minute thirty seconds. A new World Record has been set.

After dumping the bus back at the depot it was off home to watch crappy late night TV and more gorillas dressed up in tutus.