The Trials and Tribulations of Being a Bus Politician By Andy Thompson

I've done something horrible. I've developed a rapport with the regular travellers on my bus to work in the morning. Some would say this isn't an issue but my ability to function as a normal member of society is somewhat diminished at that time of the day. It started innocently enough. A lady dropped her bus pass and I retrieved it. She said “thank you” and I said “you’re welcome.” I've now progressed to waving and chatting to everyone on the bus like a beaming sweaty-faced politician two weeks out from an election. I’d much rather bury my face in a book or stare idly out the window. This is my alone time. I don’t want to chat but there’s no going back.

“Hi there Steve! Like your jacket!”

“Susan! New hair-do? Looking great!”

“Yes, Paul. It is rather muggy this morning. We'll get a storm I’d say.”

I once lamented the fact that no one sits next to me on the bus. Now not only are people sitting next to me, they’re showing me photos of their kids and asking me about sports I don’t care for. I haven’t spoken to the alpha male and female on the bus though. This chunky couple climb on first, sit in the same seat and mutter snide remarks about the other passengers. The alpha-female once had a dig at Susan’s weight issues which was a bit rich coming from a rotund lady whose chin, cleavage and stomach are all located in a similar region. I've been biting my tongue but I'll soon lash out at these two well-upholstered hobbits.

No one fucks with my Susan.

in Brisbane, Queensland, Australia


I tell jokes for cash, manly hugs and free drinks. I’ll tell you which way the water flows for free. Comedian, engineer, writer and husky man-about-town.

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