my london has been suffering lately. the last couple of years have seen horrid horrid things. both my 10p italian soho eating spots closed, the staff in the coach stopped being quite so hilariously rubbish, reckless records slowly crumbled to nothing, the should be bloomin listed raymond revue bar sign was covered by some of the direst graphics you'll ever see, and buses went long and bendy. they're the foul transport of the devil, and to prove it we asked the nice people at consumer champions magazine which? to do us a graph and some other stuff...
nothing proves a point better that a mystifying graph. i've got a thing about graphs, i can't do maths, never know what they're on about, but show me a pie chart and i'm sold.
most of all lets think of the children.
what kind of future can we expect when there's a whole generation who will never know the joy of making your shopping laden folks clamber up windy cramped too steep lurching as the bus moves off stairs cos you've got to get that front right hand seat and drive. and what's the point of not buying a ticket if you don't have to hide under your seat giggling madly when the conducter comes round. we're doomed i tell you, doomed.
you can keep you're 69 chevys and your brand new cadillacs, i'll be sneaking a crafty fag and scratching i woz ere on the back seat top deck and daring anyone to try and stop me...
9 comments:
That's brilliant. It feels a little like reading one of the warmer pieces in 'The Onion', which I hope you feel is a good thing!
Running in the rain to leap thrillingly onto the open back of a Routemaster at speed; the yellow tungsten lighting they used to have inside; red tartan upholstery.
On the other hand, old women with bags of shopping trying to get up the stairs. Routemasters were not a universally pleasureable experience. They look lovely, though.
Oh goodness. Oh my. I've gone all wibbly and teary. Reckless gone? Please tell me Simply Sausages is still there. I have fond memories of picking up exotic bangers on the way back from an afternoon's record hunting.
I was still in Lahndahn for the demise of the Routemaster. I'm no busspotter, but I shall miss deftly hopping on and off them, often with a slight twirl around the pole for effect.
And indeed, I clearly remember Dad giving me a Dinky double-decker bus at a tender age.
Don't push your foot on the heartbreak...
Sigh...
fnarf - old ladies always sat downstairs. Any fule know dat.
Fil - Yes! I have same Dinky! BTW, we always cross paths on these blogs, never talk. I'm Dave. Nice to meet you.
Ally: you seem to have started something here. Possibly an old farts forum, sadly x
right it's lily allen and alcopops from now on then... no, really... come back hooch and two dogs we miss you, and i've quite a soft spot for the potty mouthed pop princess...
while i do miss a routemaster its double deckers that i absolutely insist on - theres no better way to see the city.
although you havent't lived till you've fallen off the back of 38 and been crushed under the 19 right behind
x
Nice to see you get a mention in The Guardian . . .
Simon James x
Hello Dave, I'm FiL. Indeed, it seems we have been running into each other at all the finest blog parties. It's a pleasure to e-meet you!
Hi Ally,
Congrats on your inclusion in the Guardian Guide's internet section this past weekend. I'm mentioned there too!
WK
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