Bite your tongue

'Heh heh heh ..'

Creepy drawers was at it again, 9.45am, no 44 bus.

'LOOK AT YOU. Wha' a wee darlin'. Am away ti watch the fi'ba. Hibs n Falkirk. UP THE HI BEES'

Gawd.

If l move, he'll more than likely pick on that young girl. I'll stay put. Save her from looking at those battle-scar eyeballs. Not to mention the crispy lips, that stench.

Honestly, l'm not being judgemental, but why can't females go about their business without some toothless arsehole expecting us to engage in a 'bi' o' banter, like'.

Banter?

What does some forty five (or is it sixty five) year old blether have in common with a schoolgirl. Or elderly lady with a white stick. Yep. I'll take the brunt. Heard it all before.

'So, hen. Whit's aw tha' crap oan yer eyes fur. You look like them pandas in the zoo. Eh?' (Looks around) Dis she no'. Must 'uve taken 'oors. Bet she's no' bad lookin' underneath aw tha' muck'

For the next three stops, the passengers heard how l must be a lesbian, just because I 'canny take a joke'. La la laaaaaa. Humming a tune to drown out his creaky voice.

Thank god. My stop.

'Cheers, driver'

As we piled off in single file, l deliberately avoided looking at him. Unfortunately, he'd targeted another female.

'Awrite, dawl. Where ur you goin'. Fecksake. Look at yer broon airums. Did yi rub a couple o' oxo cubes oan thum. He he he ..'