Wee bullied-looking cunt and the bus

I hate getting the bus in the winter.

You're all stuffed in together, and you're wearing a coat and hat and squished against some other fuckers, and your nose is all running, and the bus is full of twats- schoolkids, working people, weird fuckers, old folks and scumbag anglophone student scum-of-the-earth bastards from hors du Quebec (in addition to a fair few hoors du Quebec, at the same time).

So you're on the bus, right, and it's fucking shite.

But lo! Amidst the madness, there's a wee island of tranquility and sadness: the wee bullied-looking cunt. He's so dignified, and quiet, and he's up there sitting beside a really nice looking girl, just sitting there aloof and sad while all the other wee schoolkids are chatting and gibbering and pushing each other about.

The look of quiet dignity on his face is heartbreaking, and it will stay with you for many minutes as you walk down the road to work.

I love that wee-bullied looking ballix. I often kid myself that he's really popular and good at karate or volleyball or something, and who knows, who knows, he might just be. But I doubt it.

I will protect you, youngster. 

You're probably an annoying wee shite, but I enjoy the sentimental notion of your nobility, and the nostalgic yearning it creates.

Fuckers are putting the fares up, soon.