David Morgan, people watcher, on ... the night bus baller
Jedwardian stand-up and LiF blogger David Morgan sits on night buses and judges people, so you don't have to ...
Today's tale begins on a night bus. The joys of stand up comedy are such that you often travel late at night surrounded by the drunken masses. This time the city was London, and the bus was the N207. It wasn't that late, so I assumed I'd not have too much drama. Obviously I had my headphones in, the international "no, don't talk to me" gesture, but even with an orchestral version of Call Me Maybe (my current jam) going on, the woman in front, Jade, managed to overpower Carly Rae Jepsen with her screaming.
Jade was sat directly in front of me so my only visual stimulus was her blonde weave, which looked less natural than the hair on a Poundland Cindy doll. And judging by the fact it was only still attached to her by caked-on hairspray, she had once participated in a reality TV-style weave-pulling cat fight.
I stopped the music on my iPhone.
"I know he's there Hugo, put him on ..." yelled Jade into her non-touchscreen phone. She didn't sound or look like the kind of girl to know a Hugo, "I'm his girlfriend you dick I know he's there I can HEAR HIM." The last two words were yelled with such volume she had to move the phone away from her ear and speak into it like a contestant on The Apprentice. Hugo hung up, Jade screamed. Everyone on the bus was listening in.
She started stabbing at the keypad with her bejewelled talons, "Piers, put Charlie on the fucking phone." Piers? PIERS! She was mixing with a totally different crowd to the one I had placed her in. Piers, it seemed was not going to admit Charlie was there either, causing another exasperated scream.
Jade started to break down. Stamping her heels into the floor of the bus hitting the little bit of glass in front of her until she finally started to cry. Well, sob. Well, scream and whelp snotty tears of sadness and hatred. I don't react well to extreme emotion. I was bought up Catholic, emotions were for the weak and the heathens. Luckily I didn't have to deal with it. Across from Jade was a woman who I had noticed was eavesdropping so much she had nearly fallen into the aisle. She slid in next to Jade and gave her a pat on the back. "Don't cry," she said "do you want to talk about it?". The entire bus leaned forward, we were desperate for her to say yes, we wanted to know.
"He's a bastard," snotted Jade, "he's at a party with some posh bird he ..." a tinny ringtone filled the bus with electronic noise, "it's him." She blew her nose onto her hoodie and wiped her eyes, took a deep breath, composed herself and answered.
"FUCK YOU," she screamed, she hung up and balled like fallen child.
He rang back, "What? Where are you?," she screeched. "No, Charlie you aren't at home. I went there and your snotty cow of a mother said you were out. I even searched your room. DON'T LIE I CAN HEAR THE PARTY." She hung up and cried again.
The girl patting Jade's back was loving this. "What happened?" she asked. "I'm his bit of rough and he got bored of me," Jade responded. I was right, she didn't really know a Hugo or a Piers, I don't know if that makes me a winner or a horrible horrible human, still I was correct.
Jade relayed the story of how they met. Charlie and his friends had decided to go "shit clubbing" and had chosen the club that Jade goes to as the "worst club in London". Charlie had pulled Jade and they saw each other for a little while. Jade even met his parents. Charlie's mum had called her a "scutter" when she thought Jade couldn't hear. Tonight was a big party in Chelsea, Jade had gotten all dressed up, but she was the only person in the group not on the list. Charlie went in without her.
I felt awful for her, but hoped that somehow she now becomes something incredible so this can be turned into some cheerful romcom like Legally Blonde. Sadly this might not happen, as Elle Woods, when asked "What are you going to do now?" would not have replied, as Jade did to the same question, "I'm going to rip his dick off."
I sort of hope she does.
David Morgan, people watcher, will be back next month