Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit

The two oriental-looking-but-eastern-european-speaking girls sitting behind me haven’t stopped yammering since we got on the coach in Victoria.

We’re now in Buckinghamshire.

I’ve got no issue with them yammering non-stop at each other in a tongue I don’t understand. No. My problem is nothing to do with the language.

My problem is everything to do with the non-stop yammering. And the simpering girly voices.

I want to turn round and say ‘Shut The Fuck Up!’

I want to do it in a mean and threatening way.

I don’t want to have to take refuge in the ear-bud world that I usually enjoy because today – being Friday afternoon/evening and also being the end of the week – I want to sleep.

I dozed off a couple of times on the way out of London but on both occasions I was dragged from the arms of Mary Morpheus by the incessant yammer yammer and girly simpering with accompanying giggling.


Guess how old they are.

No, go on. Guess.

They’re both in the 24-26 bracket.

Fuck me, I’d like to do something with them and a bracket.

Hang them from the wall of the bus. On the outside. In a ‘stitch that you bitches’ kind of way.


I’m not normally grumpy when I’ve been woken up.

At least I don’t think I am; a little lower in the vocals, sure, but not grumpy at all.


This has nothing to do with being woken up.

It’s everything to do with being kept awake – and that’s a serious crime.

They’re at it again – and we’re nearly in Oxfordshire!

Now then, where did I put that bracket?


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4 Responses to Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit

  1. Trixie says:

    At least on the train, hardly anyone talks!

  2. Perpetual says:

    You see this is why I refuse to travel on a coach 🙂

  3. Bulldog says:

    I’m a little nonplussed that what you call a park and ride in England, we call . . . wait for it . . . a park and ride. I’m encouraged. We have the exact same term for something after all.

    I would dearly love to take a train from my park and ride to work. I can’t. I’m relegated to the bus.

    Good thing: We’re building light rail.

    Bad thing: It goes 90 degrees to my direction of travel. There’s no station at the single largest employer in the region.

    Good thing: My employer pays for all my bus tickets.

    Bad thing: There’s a guy on our bus who must be related to the yammering girls on your train. He’s either blabbing on his cell phone, or pontificating on a topic where he is totally clueless.

  4. Brennig says:

    Trixie: I was sitting here nodding in almost violent agreement with you until I remembered a nightmare trip to Manchester one day – trapped behind a couple of giggly students. Giggly male students!

    Perpetual: See above re Manchester students. lol!!!

    Bulldog: The pros and cons of public transport, eh? But my commute goes beyond feeling sanctimonious – it’s just too impractical to take the car in to London.