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I Hate Taking the Bus

Taking the bus is always an exercise in tolerance for me. Being crammed into a tin box with people who smell of booze from the night before, mothballs, odd foods and adult diapers (yes adult diapers) is enough to set me wretching first thing in the morning. I’m considering taking up smoking again or having a clothespin attatched to my nose so as to spare me from the olfactory assault of the stinky, trasit riding masses.

That is all … for now.

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