Wankers

I hardly ever sit on benches, because most of them don’t move.
I don’t like being stuck, I don’t like not moving.
I find it hard to stand still in any space.
I’m no good as a statue.
I’m no good at playing that game.

If I would sit on a bench, its more than likely it wouldn’t be on the street,
Its more than likely that it would be looking out to the see, or a mountain, or a field, or something that hasn’t got any people in it, that hasn’t got things in the way.

I sat down on a bench in Nottingham,
But in no way was it my favorite,
It was placed next to a bin, and since the smoking ban these bins have become small focus points or meeting points for those still stubborn enough to fight the ban, most of the buts don’t make it to the bin, but they seem to be getting closer.

I tried on this bench next to the bin to work out where everyone was headed who they worked for, why they chose that shirt, that pair of pointy shoes that pair of drainpipe jeans...
But I had no answers.

But

I sat on a bench on a bus this morning, it didn’t face front, so technically it’s a bench.
It was on the street, and so I think it still counts, as a bench on a street.
Although not my favorite still, I haven’t found that place yet, its not where I live and its not where I'm staying right now.
It’s perhaps somewhere warmer, somewhere over there, but on the bench on the bus.

I was in a bad mood, I carried a heavy bag, a heavier suitcase, it was the driver, he put me in that mood, he was aggressive and short and he wanted to make this journey a hell. And he did, it was an evil bus full of wankers and the driver was a wanker too.

Under my breath

I called him a wanker and a twat,
And because I was the closest sitting to him I am sure that he heard me,
But there again I wanted him to.
He was driving like a twat; he drove too fast and stopped too suddenly
So all the passengers even those who weren’t wankers had to dance the same dance, with the wankers even if they didn’t want to.

The guy who sat next to me wasn’t a wanker, he looked like a bit of a twat, but he wasn’t a wanker.
The guy sat opposite me looked even more of a twat no he was a wanker, he took over 2 parts of the double bench opposite, he took these 2 parts until an older woman who got on with a suitcase as big, but not as heavy as mine got on, he moved to the side and let her sit next to him,
But I still thought that he was a wanker, er, until another old person, a man, with no hair, no hair on his head, or his face got on, he took a newspaper from under the one on the top of the pile, and the wanker who sat opposite me asked the old man with no hair if he wanted to sit down.

He stopped being a wanker.

But another wanker got on and quickly filled the empty vacancy, it wasn’t free for long, he stood in front of my massive suitcase, in the way of everyone that got on the bus, he didn’t read the newspaper on the top of the pile, he made it his job to stand in the way of everyone else, in his hat and drainpipes, and his floppy hair, to get in the way, So I whispered out wanker,
And the twat who had now become a wanker who sat next to me shuffled like a twat and the biggest wanker the bus driver pushed his breaks harder, so I said wanker again, but this didn’t improve a thing.
Until we reached the steps and then for 2 more stops there was enough room to breath.

And so I got off the bench when the bus had stopped moving, and the breaks had been applied.
I got off the bus and said to my friends, there not wankers but they act like a couple of twats,

What a wanker…

And so we all agreed what a wanker that bus driver was, what a miserable wanker, what a wanker of a driver, and the wanker and twat conversation continued until we stood in a line in front of the bar to Costa

And the first time for what had seemed a long time I smiled.

Not you three again she said smiling and laughing to herself because she knew that we were a bunch of twats,
You 3 are always together, and she’d only know us for 3 days.
You need to get out a bit more, get a bit more independence.

I saw you three walking on the street last night and it was raining, I knew it was you 3 she said and she laughed.

We’d got off the bus so we decided to race it, as it wasn’t moving, the bus was full of loud speaking wankers talking wank really loudly talking wank about football, so we moved downstairs, and it was no better there it was full of loud talking girls talking a load of wank over each other about this and that that I didn’t understand and shoes and parties and white shirts and black essentials so we had to get off.

That driver wasn’t a wanker, but he knew what we were up to and he wanted to have a race too, so he passed us on the Otley rd.
She passed us there too.

Which is where she saw us.
Twats and wankers.