As the temperature increases, so does the severity of the olfactory assault of your humble driver’s nostrils courtesy of the staggering lack of personal hygiene demonstrated by some of the daytime complement of passengers
Today, to compliment the all too familiar fug of feet, farts, sick, booze sick, baby sick and crushing BO coming off the motley crew huddled in the 5’s saloon was a guy of indeterminate age who reeked of those gerkins you find in a certain brand of fast-food burger. Absolutely stank of them…
Brilliantly, the following conversation ensued as he got on and flashed his concession card
GOIA: ‘Roit, droive
Me: OK. Where are you going?
GOIA: Weston Lock
Me: (With fingers crossed) Ooh, to McDonald’s?
GOIA: (Quizzically) Yeah…
Sun’s out, scum’s out…