I awoke early on Tuesday morning, on my body clock’s own accord (Since I’ve come back from France I’ve been falling asleep easily and waking up early. It’ll end soon but it’s fucking beautiful while it lasts). This was a victory. A victory this early in the day is always nice.

Tuesday’s scoreline at 8am : Mark 1 – 0 Cunting World.

Had breakfast, showered, got ready and out the door – all without a hitch.

I was defending my lead. Defending it gallantly. Got men behind the ball, closing the opposition down early. Frustrating the world.

So I stroll to my bus stop. Early. Early and smug. Then I look and see that the slip road (through which the bus comes) is blocked off with road works. Fuck. The world’s equalised.

Mark 1 – 1 Cunting World. I tried to play them offside, but he timed his run to perfection, ran through and dinked it over the keeper.

So I mention this problem to the middle-aged woman who’s also waiting at the bus stop. Being a middle-aged woman at a bus stop, it took quite a bit of explaining, after clarifying that it was nothing to do with the recent bus strike (ah, the poor dear). Along came another woman midway through my explaining, and then the three of us decided we must go to the next operating bus stop, a few hundred yards away.

So, me and these two middle-aged women strangers begin walking. It was odd. On the way to the next stop that would be in use that day, we had to pass by another stop, at which there was a couple who were in their mid-twenties I’d say. So we had to explain to them what was going on, and recruit them on our hike. It was a little surreal.

In the football analogy this is when a streaker comes onto the pitch and nobody really knows what to do.

As we approach the bus stop, we can see a bus coming around the corner. I’m in the middle of the little group we’ve gathered, so I mention to the people in front (the young-ish couple) that we may have to run to get that bus. Given that the other people were part of the general public, they heard me, but didn’t seem to comprehend that if we did not run, we would miss the bus. They motioned as if they were going to run, but then just took a few faster walking strides, before returning to normal pace.

The world had just been given a penalty. A penalty that should never have been given.

I won the fucking ball ref.

No you didn’t son, he got there first. Now back off and let’s get on with it.

This is a fucking joke, I know I got the ball.

Anymore of that and you’re booked.

Fuck’s sake.

So I squeeze by and run to catch the bus. I run, doing that stupid looking “arm-out to flag down the bus” thing. The driver stops and I get on, panting a little.

Penalty saved! And we cleared the rebound.

I ask the driver to wait a few seconds, for the rest of the people, as our normal bus stop wasn’t in service. He nods, understanding the situation. The people trod along like a pack of fucking tortoises. Terminally ill tortoises. I sort of wait to see if they get on, before taking a seat. They get on. I await a nod, smile or word of thanks from them as they clamber on.

Nothing. Not a fucking thing. Pack of ungrateful cunts. After I’d explained to the first lot about the bus route being off, then ran for the bus and got the driver to wait for all of them. Nothing. Next time I’d push the bastards off the bus and piss all over them before we drive off. Does anyone think I went to the effort of that for anything other than receiving a word of thanks? Of course not.

Mark 1 – 2 Cunting World. Caught me on the break. My centre backs had gone up for a corner, the world cleared it, their speedy left winger latched onto it and layed it across for their lazy centre forward to tap it into the net.

Towards the end of the bus journey we stopped outside a park. There were deer in there. Antlers and all. I liked this.

Mark 2-2 Cunting World. A late equaliser. Route one football. Big goal kick, flick on from my burly striker, first touch finish from his “what he lacks in height he makes up for in tenacity” striking partner. Opposition are dumb-struck. They’d gotten complacent.

We’ve still got the second leg to come, but it’s an exciting tie thus far.

Edit: Part two has been added – here.

1 May 2009 ‧ For The Lolz, Life etc. ‧ 12 Comments