Stagecoach

            Buses have always been the absolute peng; just from some of the strange things I’ve done or witnessed on them make me giggle. I started riding the buses once I started secondary school, for the first year and half way through the second year there was only 4 buses on the route (625). You had to get to Canterbury bus station to then get a bus to school or walk from the station if missed school bus or just could be bothered. I’d normally walk with mates to school a. for extra time wastage and b. we use to chore sweets out the shop half way up the walk from station to school. Anyway at the begin there was mixed school buses, it was pot luck at which one actually stopped for me as I was near the end of the line so some the earlier ones would be full to the brim of children crammed in like sardines without an actual care for their safety (I remember reading them signs with the amount of people you could seat and have standing and it was always over crowded when I did a head count), I always thought this especially with no seat belts all these poles an accident bare children would get fucked up badly. It kind of got proven when a bus almost toppled over on gypsy corner and the person who 'saved the day' wasn’t even the bus driver or anyone like that it was a breh who was the year above me at archbishops school - and he was the gooniest of goons. 

          On the return journeys homes from school it was always my favourite even from early with the mixed school bus, it was normally a half hour wait once you walked from school to the bus station so me and my friends of the time use to entertain ourselves with the multi-storey car park which was right next to our bay the bus arrived in. we use to spit on people’s heads as they walked passed, shout abuse at people from above and smoke fags - just general fucking about behaviour. Once we got caught out though by some skaters who was at the bottom who we spat on, they snuck up us bashed my mate in the back with his skateboard and was basically giving it to us. They were much older so we all made off on toes down the bridges that linked BHS, Ricemans and the multi-storey after calling him a wanker and telling him to fuck himself. After that though we kinda wised up on what targets to hit, not everyone shrugs things off as easily as others especially when it’s being spat on from a great high to the sounds of 11 year old children giggling like hyenas.

          At the station there was bare groups of friends and it seemed like everyone knew everyone some way or another (where I was from was a small village really so it was inevitable everyone knew at least couple heads). I knew a lot of people, I had an older sister who was in a group of people and also a brother who had another group on the bus... either was I use to move between all the groups being that annoying mouth little first year who would be rude and insult everyone for attention of some sort. There was a big Filipino guy who I use to hang around most the time, think he was few years older than me but where i was innocent looking but foul mouthed he took a liking to me. He was popular guy, well-liked by all so I was pushing myself into the eyesight of most... I remember one day an attractive girl from his school was waiting with us and she was giving it the "ah ain't he cute" bollocks to me, he looked at me like "you gonna take that", I remember turning to her telling her in my most hateful tone "shut up you fucking whore!", that was it everyone was laughing while she was in shock but from then I realised I wanted to be centre of attention making people laugh. Anyway when the bus use to arrive it seemed like all friendships were out the window, it was every man for himself. Random people who weren’t school kids who just wanted the bus home would be sat back watch this carnage our bus got a little famous for, the bus would pull up and every child would bolt to the front to be first on. You always wanted to be at the front but it cost as everyone would bundle on pushing and shoving, crushing you into the door with your face pressed up against the glass. Bus drivers would lose the plot at us, screaming and shout for us to move back and would refuse to open the door until the chaos would calm and formed into an orderly line... This when on for the whole year and half that the 625 existed within my school life.

          My mouth use to get me into trouble a lot, I have always been a relentless piss taker and my mouth has always moved faster than my brain unfortunately. One day when I was sat at the back, I was pissing off this one St. Anselm’s kid who was a few years older. He was tall and gangerly nothing to look at, as if a strong enough wind would pick him up and take him away so I use to take digs at him. I can’t honestly remember what I said but I believe it was over a long period of time I was going on and on and on then I said something (probably about his mum was my main thing back then) and yeah he snapped, full on banged me straight in the eye. I remember looking over at my brother as if i thought he was gonna help me, this older kid has struck your youngest brother and all that. Nah he fully looked at me and told me  deserved it, looking back i completely did but I remember thinking my brother was a prick (not the first time either, but he is normally in the right to be honest). After that day I realised that no one has my back really and some people can’t talk my humour, especially when forced upon them for a good few days every time I saw them haha... After that day though we got on a lot better, banter was shared on both sides and a mutual respect was there.

          After a while the 625 was stopped and each school had a direct bus straight to the gate so there was never an excuse to really fuck about at first, the morning buses where normally quite calm not the same people who would endeavour to catch it after school for the jokes. The Chaucer bus, we shared with Barton court as they're so close but complete worlds apart with the type of student that went to them. Barton court was a grammar school which didn’t have much rep, Chaucer wasn’t the worst school in world but names that were known went there and some element of respect was present. It was around year 9 when all the madness started, generally smoking on buses was considered normal but after a while that wasn’t really enough. One day the back seat caught when me and an assailant kept spraying deodorant (before my heavy aerosol days) and setting fire to it to make a flame thrower. Through that it caught fire, we controlled it at the time but it was the beginning of what next could we do, how much further could we push it before shit kicked off with the driver. After that we use to push our knees up against the back of the wood of the chairs and they'd pop out, sometimes it would take two of you but there were always enough people on the right mind frame to destruction. once they popped out we'd slide the windows across (if weren’t already for the fag smoke) and start breaking up the chair to throw out the window, they weren’t the only things though to get thrown out - water bombs - peoples left over lunch normally fruit like apples etc. - spitting on people on passing and various other horrible things we could get our hands on. After a while we took it upon ourselves that the 915 was a Chaucer bus and Barton court can fuck themselves, bundles happened and got quite out of hand, one time pretty much the whole back seat and co got up and bundled a Barton court first year boy. we went in thought must of been 6/7 of us jumping all on him causing god knows how much pain, it wasn’t evident at the time from my memory but i also believe it wasn’t finished by the time it was my stop (where I was last on in morning i was obviously first off). either way I came into school the next to find the kid had broken his arm and given all our names to the school and bus company to deal with, that morning was a long one I remember being sat outside of the teachers’ lounge where after a while we ended up being suspended for a week and banned from stagecoach till end of the year. For some reason or another though after about a month of our parents giving us lifts we had a bargain with them that we could get our bus passes back as long as for a week we went to the bus station to clean the buses, I never actually went while I know others did and I still got my bus pass back the same time as them.

          I also remember during them times I had a thing about after acting a complete dickhead on the bus i would them go to the camera at the front a hold up my bus pass with my name and photo on it, i thought i was being cool but to be honest that is a huge dickhead move! I was lucky not to of ever been caught through that stupidity, especially when we got took on the residential (when we went away for a week with school to France) one of the appropriate adults that chaperoned was the head of stagecoach a Mr Promfret (who later turned out to be a G). from that though, he knew my name, he knew all about me and my friends it was a huge ego boost like he knew I was a shitbag was a good thing. We use to smoke a resin zoot on the beach in Sangatte go back to the hostel we stayed and chat shit to him, I remember one night him telling everyone the 915 was the worst school bus in the district and I remember feeling so proud! he would also tell us stories of some of the fucked up things that happen on buses and then through questioning he said about how many people actually get caught on camera doing whatever weird fucked up thing they should be doing which was a game changer for me and my stupidity. To be honest after getting to know Pomfret I kinda behaved more on the bus, a new found respect for them. I still smoked on the bus and at one point pissed on the floor to watch it go back and forth as the bus pulled off and braked but my behaviour on buses wasn’t really questioned as much after that residential/suspension/banning.

          My buses journeys were pretty tame since leaving school in all honesty i never really used them i passed my driving test so only when my car was fucked would i bother using them and to be honest, I still really enjoy them. I have a positive smile of happier times when on a bus... Simple things I guess... Anyway this one time when my car was out of action i was forced to try blend in with the peasantry, I walked up to the bus stop opposite the laundrette on the four fathoms corner in Herne Bay to which i immediately went to check the time table to see how long I was to wait till I could get the fuck out of here. The weather was cold and shitty and I had Bell’s palsy at the time so I could actually shut my left eye and the wind was a drain hard on my face. This elderly lady (i use the term lady lightly) who was originally sat on the side of the shelter the same side as the time table was posted up but as I arrived she decided to get up walk to the other side of the shelter and sit down with her back facing me like I was contagious. I thought nothing of it to be honest but thinking back she must of took a disliking to me straight away, I suppose I am a fat bald breh with a hench beard but still she judged me from the split second she clocked me. The bus stop is on a corner of which if you are watching for the bus to arrive you are literally staring at nothing but cars zooming by I was stood there gawping away, as soon as the bus came round the corner this old girl was up on her toes flagging it down. She was stood at the front end of the shelter while I was stood at the back end and as the bus slowed down to pull up he rolled passed her and stopped directly in front of me, the doors open, I stepped on and stated my destination "single to Swalecliffe please". As soon as I had said them words I heard this old girl come from behind me in an agitated voice "don’t you have any manners? not only did i flag this bus down but haven’t you heard of ladies first?!" I choose to ignore her as FUCK what she thinks and I’m not about to get into an argument with a pension on the bus over manners, I got on first - get over it,  she is lucky I didn’t bundle her into the doors. anyway in between me ignoring her and she spouting her hate towards me I had drawn for a tenner, to which the bus driver informed me that he doesn’t have any change as my journey was only a mere £2.10. Then in another hate filled rant this old bint pipes up again "you can’t expect him to have change for you, you should have exact tender" blah blah blah "GET OFF THE BUS". I was getting a little frustrated and I’m sure within a minute I was about to tell everyone to fuck themselves, I turned to get off the bus hardly saying anything i just wanted to get away from the show up of it and the bus drivers looks at me and says "don’t worry mate get on, its free". I hard the biggest crooked grin upon my face as I turned back onto the bus the old bitches face had dropped, speechless, it was fucking PENG beyond belief. That bus driver was a hactual legend to the enth degree. This whole story kind of drove me to write about some of the experiences I have had on buses and how much i have actually learned on the buses throughout my school into adulthood. If anything I would say stagecoach actually taught me more than Chaucer tech ever could. 

Delon Delay

          I’m not gonna lie, most the time my experiences from aerosol aren’t good or even funny at the time but in hindsight i always find myself laughing at the crazy thoughts or situations that happen whilst my lips were wrapped firmly around a canister. I’m not really sure what started me doing gas but i soon after i got a reputation for being a gas head, even to this day i get reminded by people about how bad my behaviour was and how i always had a can hanging out my mewy. after about 3/4 cans in a day after a while you would start to hallucinate, basically I’d lose all grip on reality and 90% of the time i would think i was dying - these would later be known lovingly as "gas attacks" to my friends who would buy gas cans for me to watch me go crazy. even after a while my parents clocked on that all the deodorant was running out faster than usual as i was going through mine, my sisters/brothers/mothers any fuckers i could get my hands on so my mother took it upon herself to switch everyone in my family to roll ons!

          The first time i had a gas attack and lost it i remember i was sat near a friend’s house in an industrial estate i spent a lot of my youth growing up, we were all sat round sharing a zoot while i was sucking on a can. "pssssssssssssssssss" the sound of the canister releasing the butane into my lungs started to sound faint, i jumped up and started to hold my face because in my mind the flesh on my skull was starting to melt and slip off of the bone. i clutched on hard to my face and repeatedly shouted "what?" getting louder as i went on, on the last hollered into the dark corner of the factories i came round and realised that my face wasn't actually melting and i was sat with friends. This was not to be the last time i lost the plot on it, there was a part of me that actually enjoyed the fact that reality got took away, and I had always been obsessed with the thought of acid and mushrooms because reality is bleak in all honesty. It didn’t just stop there, i found myself getting cans of gas on my own and doing it thinking that maybe i could control it - i was very wrong.

          Another experience i had was when i was on my own in a dog walking field that was next door to the factories the first lost it experience happened, either way i was sat doing gas on my own in the middle of this field. I kept feeling a tap on my back like someone wanted to get my attention, every time i looked round some annoying character was running away - he looked like someone from the children’s program ZAPP which i always hated. he was relentless with trying to get my attention than one time i turned my whole body round instead of just my head and stood no further than about 5 metres away was this humongous half man half dog thing, it was the most scariest, muscular animal i can picture to this day and still feel the fear as i did then. I froze for a second in shock staring at it, it was in a ready to pounce position and it looked like it was weighing up its options to which its mouth slowly started to open. Once the mouth was open i started to see the whole world beginning with the field was being sucked into his mouth to which i turned and ran for my life, i remember the only thought that went through my head at the time was my mum and never seeing her again. i got to the end of the field turned around to see what was happening to see just an empty field and the world all still in tack, the feel of relief was immense.

          One time when my friend had his house to himself so house parties/all dayers/basically stayed there the whole time his parents were gone was on the cards hard, well i know i was hanging from probably pills the night before too. Well i was sat in the back room of his house, a kitchen/dining room area, sucking on the canister with my head rested on a table watching the floor... slowly it started to kick in and my whole imagination took off, from under the table i believed that the house i was sat in was on scaffolding on wheels. On those wheels was these little gremlin type of thing, it was actually the same looking kind of creature that looked like my mate (whose house it was) tattoo on his arm. Either ways yeah, his house was rolling down the road and i thought it was getting out of control. I went to stand up to try sort shit out but soon as i looked up i thought there was a huge wooden spike hanging above my head and a gremlin was in charge of the rope that kept it above me! i started to shit myself and all i remember was coming round collapsed on top of an ironing board, all my friends laughing over me telling me basically was running from one side of the room to the other like a bull in a china shop knocking everything over creating as much mess as possible... all i really know is the spike didn’t land on me...

          another night some depraved behaviour was a gwarn, it was normally once all the drugs had gone we would draw for the aerosol to try keep what little buzz was left. well on this night we had nothing, no aerosol, no drugs, not even weed from my memory so we was left with a stupid decision but my friend had a bottle of aftershave... yeah... brut... all of who was present had a shot of brut to try keep us fucked for the night, and boy did it... i have never had my stomach feel so uneasy, summersaults, my gut was wrenching everyone was looking worse for wear so it was decided that we should all go for a walk in the fresh air. we were in Whitstable area walking along the beach near the golf course, as we was coming onto the beach a police car pulled up from nowhere with them jumping out on us screaming and shouting! Everyone bar one of my friends made off on toes, i was far too ill and overweight really to ever try and run from them. straight away they threw my friend and i into the back of the car arresting us asking who are friends were and what we were doing, i just remember staring at them like i was hollow inside turn back into some primitive beast grunting like " err, yeah, walk... erm... sick"... i think they realised something was up with us and it wasn’t normal behaviour we was portraying, one stayed with us while the other gavver went up to the beach to see what was happen (i guess they knew through why they were called down in the first place). me and my mate was looking at each other like FUCK... how we gonna get out of this, what the fuck we gonna do sort of thing and from out of nowhere this gavver comes marching back with two well-known smack heads from the area who was trying to break into the beach huts. within minutes of his arrival back me and my mate was dearrested and set off on our way, the way the gavver looked at us as we hobbled off holding our bellies like we was about to throw everything we had up if any slight upset, i will never forget that feeling though of relief, like in the field but least this one was a real situation!

          this last story i am about to tell is probably the most funniest/stupidest thing i have done and still haven’t let down, on occasions it has come up and to all the people who witnessed i am pretty sure none of them will forget it or me any time in a hurry. I am not sure how many cans i had got through this day but normally it took 3 to 4 for an outburst of randomness incoherent babble from me, which this for sure is. I was sat in college class for key notes or some shit; i was studying music technology with 3 of my close friends in same class. I was the only one who ever really did gas at these times, especially publicly. the tutor was banging on and on about notation and it was all written work no Cubase so most the time i didn’t turn up let alone pay attention, i had a can of gas slipped up my sleeve of my coat and had the nozzle popping out the top so i could top myself up as i needed. I was sat pretty much at the back of the class doing as i do and suddenly starting to drift from reality; i was picturing a huge blue ball bouncing from the back wall to the front wall and so forth never touching the ground. It was almost like computer graphics though, no real end to the ball as if it was tracing (like on acid). then all of a sudden i freak out, the ceiling starts getting cracks in and looking as if it is about to give in on the whole class. To this i start to try climbing on top of the table and all over the computer keyboard with no regard to it "SHIT! WE... GOT... TOO.... AAHHH... FUCK!" i screamed, but then started to laugh because i couldn’t get my words out then "get out of here the roofs coming in!" and i got up and sprinted to the door of the class room. just like when i reached the end of the field when the world was getting sucked into the things mouth i turned around and completely snapped out of that reality to meet the eyes of everyone in that class room, tutor included... my friends had all knew exactly what had happened and where slyly trying not to crack up, to be honest i felt like dying that very second. anyway i turn to my tutor and without me saying a word he said to me "i think you better wait outside", for them seconds i had to think up a fucking story of what the fuck i just did... and here was my excuse... after the wait for the head of music to come down to speak to me as well as my tutor we walked into the office where the interrogation began. The head of music started telling me he was ex-army he can tell when people are lying; he knows all about drug abuse all this fucking bollocks to try fearing me into just spilling my guts. I sat and listened to his big i am speech to which he asked, "So what happen? Are you on crack?"... the pause... well... i proceeded to say "as it stands mate, i am not gonna lie to you... i have done drugs, acid mainly and sometimes no word of lie... i just lose it... look at my pupils" (knowing butane has no actual signs) to which he did start checking me over, and where i was talking all the normal shit i was completely normal he looked baffled as well as my tutor. "we're gonna have to watch you then Mr Boaler" was all i really remember him saying after that, after returning to class and everyone on me to what actually happened asking if i was fucked i carried the whole charade that i lose it. I left about a week after that, people thought i was strange and treated me different. I don't blame them...

Me: "delon delay... why do they say delon delay?"

LK: "who Boaler?"

Me: "THEM" *points to stars*