Booze Hound

13 Aug

I had to walk today – arrived the same time as yesterday and saw the back of two buses right next to each other already at the next stop and then saw the next bus was three minutes away which means more like seven. Walking along and I’m behind a man who looks like he is on his way to work; a little scruffy looking but I guess he isn’t getting paid much and doesn’t work in an office. So then he does it – picks up a miniature bottle of Jack Daniels that has been “drunk” and left on the window edge outside Iceland on Plumstead Highstreet and there is a centimeter of liquid left in the bottom. He palms it, carries it a bit, then puts it to his lips and necks it before “subtly” putting the empty bottle into a bin. It’s fucking 7.30 in the morning and you are taking the dregs out of a bottle that has been in God knows who’s mouth all for a tiny hit of booze. That is problems on a grand scale. On the ghetto express now where we seem to be interrupting a gang meeting of shouting and a lot of “bruvs” and “inits” and I’m ready to die already today. I did sit next to one bloke but seeing as he made no effort to shut his legs and turn his horrific music down when I did shuffle to claim my space, I got up and moved seats. With any luck that music and double headphones will means he doesn’t see that cyclist going through a red light when he is crossing later and justice is served for being a moron. Time to get my ipod out as the ghetto committee meeting is pissing me right off now.


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