Men Fight Over Me!

They do, I'm not lying they really do.
I recently moved to London and I started work at Canary Wharf

Canary Wharf: like a state funeral where everybody wears black and looks miserable

I decided being as I can't walk that far because of back problems at the moment (another story) I would live East and aim for a good bus route
So I picked Hackney in my wisdom, I hear you cry what's wrong with good old Hackney, the heart of the East End where happy honest people potter about their daily business. And you'd be right, there is everything I need there, including a multitude of stops which sell those little plastic steps I use on a regular basis to get in my front door. Why I don't just move into a flat where I can reach the front door, I don't know but its harder than you think.

I once moved into the flat in Birmingham and I couldn't reach the front door, I popped out a few times to buy new things for the my pad and after a week of sitting on the door step till one of my flat mates came home and let me in, I got over myself and my pride and asked my good old dad who is attuned to these problems if he wouldn't mind popping up the M6 with a chisel and lowering the lock,

To which he answered "is it urgent", Ah my dad I like to think of him has having a good old northern attitude to life, "just get on with it you daft bugger".

Anyway back to Hackney, what is wrong with Hackney, nothing really except I have an amazing ability to attract dodgy, slightly minging and sometimes scary old men and Hackney is full of them. On occasion I have been known to attract someone below the age of 50, but mainly OAP's show me the love. So perhaps in hindsight Hackney wasn't a wise choice. Its not that I need to get over myself and the shear beauty I radiate, but honestly I really don't want to get the night bus home, or the day bus or any bus only be groped by someone I DON'T KNOW.

I have tried to work out what it is about me they like so much, and I have come to the conclusion its my arse. Yes it is actually the size of a small third world country, and could probably supply a refugee camp with enough rump for the next few years. I am quite glad it is behind me, no pun intended so that I can't see it. Although I have been known to clear low placed shelves with one quick turn and could perhaps double it up as a human duster should I wish to stitch a j-cloth to my arse. Anyway this is my conclusion, which I deduced from the fact that many of those men have felt the need to comment on it.

So I was waiting for the bus after work and heading to the land mark of natural beauty that is Kings Cross, when a guy rocks up beside me and says to his other friend "look at her" Nice! To which his friend said why are you doing that, "don't single people out you cunt" oh it gets better.

Let me put you in the picture, they were both about 30 and drinking Special Brew.

This is a real description of Special Brew I found on the Internet

'Carlsberg Special Brew,The ultimate super strength lager,The beer of the gods'

So they carried on this conversation over the top of me, and then started fighting, I mean really fighting, throwing punches and doing flying kicks. I wanted to pipe up and say lads really I'm not worth it but the mix of special brew and scaring made me think I'm not going to reason this one.

My bus came, thank god, I boarded but you've guessed they borded.

And the fight continued...

I am not sure how many times the word C U Next Tuesday (you work it out) was used in front of women, children and a scared bus driver. The word doesn't offend me, if you've got one use it I say. That aside I think people were more offended by the WWF smack down that continued in the gang way. Luckily no one else on the bus knew they were fighting over little old me, but Hulk Hogan and the Undertaker kept looking in my direction for reassurance for the on-board entertainment they were providing.

Then the Undertaker's phone went, he answered it like everything was fine, his slurring words suddenly formed a sentence as he arranged where they were going to meet their friends. With that he pushed the emergency stop button and stepped off the bus at the front door of his choice.

I noted this act and wished I could reach it, it would come in handy the next time I can't be arsed to walk those few yards, bus alas like the porn on the top shelf it isn't to be mine.

All the time of course the bus driver did nothing, but shouted a handy "thank god" when they were safely out of ear shot, to which the black women sat next to me said in a broad Jamaican accent "If the bus driver had been black he would have kicked dem off"

I smiled sweetly at her not really knowing whether I should agree or not? The rest of the journey was uneventful.

And can I just say I bloody love that fact that when bus drivers see me coming they press there little button and lower the floor, sorry when I get on the bus that is, it would be weird if they just lowered the floor at my mere presence. When I was 14 my dad used to have to lift me on buses (attractive) and not very cool, all other times I just hoped it parked near the curb, not very practical.

So I get to where I am going, after being fought over and spending over an hour on a boiling bus and the receptionist kindly informs me right time, wrong day.