Our editor’s been busy being wined and dined – she’s quite the “totty magnet” as I’m sure you will find.

Don’t forget to read the updates and have a fantastic week, now onto more pressing matters of which I’m about to speak.

The chair awaits and down I sit, I think I’d better get on with it.

Another week has passed us by; we’re now mid year in the blink of an eye.

And what a week it’s been so far, oh how I wish I drove a car.

Instead on roadsides I stand and wait, hoping that I’m not going to be late.

There’s one coming but I’m on the wrong side of the street,

I’m crossing over, allez allez VITE!

It sails past, I feel them stare, oh how I wish I was with them there.

I try to run and flag him down, but he’s not looking and is halfway to town.

The street is empty and I’m the only one, but the waiting around is just no fun.

The board says its coming but its never right and when it does arrive to get on there’s a fight.

Don’t you just hate it and maybe I’m making much ado, but people in this country just have no idea how to queue.

I was there first, but typically the last to get on; there’s no where to sit and my bag weighs a ton.

When the first opportunity of a seat comes up, I rush to get it but more fool me I’m out of luck.

Some selfish school kid has nabbed the space and sits there with a smug look on his face.

We’re driving along at breakneck speed; I’m gripping so tightly my knuckles might bleed.

Then all of a sudden on come the breaks for an emergency stop.

The people go flying that were standing on top.

It’s the middle of summer but the heating is switched on.

We’re barbecued passengers before too long.

I finally get a seat but my problems have only started,

I’m trying not to choke but a standing passenger has just farted.

Then just when I get a little space on my own,

An arse the size of Brazil into the adjacent seat is thrown.

I’m pressed against the window like a fish in a bowl

Oh someone please get me out of this hole.

We’ve got a nutter on board and three buggies taking up space.

They won’t fold them up, they think they own the place.

The driver’s now chatting to an old friend; we’re going so slowly that it’s driving me round the bend.

I’m going to be late but the driver is now looking at the photos of her friend – my rage is steadily cooking.

There’s people trying to get off but we’re driving past stops – give me this woman’s name or I’m gonna call the cops!

The traffic is terrible and we’re catching all the red lights,

I guess it’s one way of getting to see the sights.

I finally arrive with minutes to spare but I get stuck behind people wanting to go upstairs.

The doors steadily close and away we go, I’ve missed my stop well wouldn’t you know.

I ring madly on the bell, something that usually drives me mad, but it’s not everyday that I do something bad.

I wish that this journey was just a once off but I’m to this vehicle like a light is to a moth.

You may be thinking what’s all the fuss….you only have to travel by bus.

But they make my life a living hell and I can’t wait when it’s my turn to ring the bell.

Dear Red Ken,

For travel on roads you bleed us dry.

You promise better services but you don’t even try.

Your buses are filthy and are never washed.

With too few at rush hour we’re all getting squashed.

It’s about time that you got your act together and made these buses more reliable, unlike British weather.

But for now I’m thinking that it would be quicker just to pogo – just as long as you don’t charge me.

Sincerely, this is Mojo.

2005

2004