Ah, glorious five o’clock. Home time for dinner and a well deserved block of Galaxy bar! It doesn’t take long before the scum commonly known as the general public to start irritating me again. Standing at the bus stop I find it difficult to breathe: for I am flanked by yet another overweight old woman who stinks of body oder and whatever mould exists between the folds in her flab, and someone smoking. Smokers. I accept that people have the right to smoke and destroy their own lungs, but I don’t appreciate having smoke blown in my face. Disgusting habit! I’m sure these people wouldn’t appreciate me having a w*nk at the bus stop and then taking a p*ss on the surrounding civilians. Even less so if I was to do it in front of, and p*ss on, children. And yet I have to stand here and let this person give me cancer. That’s right, friend, second hand smoke kills too.
Not a moment too sound the bus arrives. I take my seat and wait for everyone else to board so we can depart. The usual suspects get on, of course. A nice intimidating group of chavs are first aboard and take their places at the rear of the bus, where they sit and play their awful ‘music’ (and I use that term loosely... very loosely) on their cellular mobility telephones while bragging to each other about who has the biggest ASBO. Next the teenage mums who aim to be grandparents before their forty park their twin buggies at the front, showing off their baby as if it’s nothing more than a fashion accessory. The ‘depressed’ emo teenagers with their lead studded faces sit down near the chavs to have a sociable argument over who looks more like a prat. I can resolve that argument: the chavs. They can’t seem to decide whether they want a haircut or not and therefore go for the in-between option and have half their head shaved, while wearing sports gear despite the fact they can’t be bothered to actually do sports, or any type of physical activity unless it involves beating a defenceless twelve year old half to death.
To summarise: the human race is populated by scumbags. We need a good culling.
End.
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