Public Transport is not for Testicles

Today smacking: public transport and the people who use it

Letters from the Bus, Part One

Dear man sitting behind me on the number 45 bus last Thursday evening,

It’s fucking rude to stare at people. Stop doing it, or you’ll end up having someone write a bitchy blog entry about what an inconsiderate wart-licker you are.

Regards,
The one writing in the notebook you couldn’t tear your eyes away from.


Letters from the Bus, Part Two

Dear little old man with the white hair and earpiece,

You are lovely. I had to tell you repeatedly that it wasn’t necessary to let me have your seat, even though you kept saying that you couldn’t possibly take a seat while a woman was left standing. There should be more nice people like you.

Regards,
The woman whose legs still work just fine.



Letters from the Bus, Part Three

Dear men of the world,

Your balls are not as big as you think.

It is not necessary for you to sit with your legs spread so wide I could comfortably wedge a refrigerator between your thighs. The woman sitting next to you who has to cross her legs or sit at an awkward angle to fit on the seat you’ve half-commandeered through sheer force of belief in your immense package, will thank you for it.

In fact, take a leaf from the book of the little old man above. Respect, yo.

Regards,
Women of the world.