Buses
With festival season getting fully underway this weekend, it's reminded me of an appropriate tale from yesteryear.

~~~~ wavy lines, about 4 years' worth, I reckon ~~~~

I'd got myself tickets to T in The Park, and having paid hideously over the odds through an online tout (scum of the Earth - don't get me started on those wankers), you can imagine my delight when my twunt of a boss told me that - due to "staffing shortages" (one other person with an unrelated job was off) - I wouldn't be able to get the time off.

This bloke was a monumental fuckstick of the highest order, and was basically just doing his usual thing of going out of his way to make other people's life worse, at no gain to himself.

Now, I was never that keen on the job anyway, so I thought to myself "fuck it, even if he knows I'm on a sickie he's not going to fire me just for that", and duly put on my best gravelly throat and called in sick on the Thursday, as we were making our way North of the border.

The weekend came and went in spectacular fashion - if you've never been to T in The Park, you should definitely try, the Scots know how to have a good time. We drove home on the Sunday night/Monday morning, meaning that when my alarm went off at 8, I did what seemed natural... and called in sick again.

Strolling into work on the Tuesday morning - having made the necessary preparations (i.e. cutting off my festival wristband, scrubbing the smell of Scottish field from my bodily crevices), I thought all would be fine - my boss might think that I've thrown a sickie, but he couldn't prove anything.

"TMD? Get your good-for-nothing arse in here!" bellowed the aforementioned fuckstick, the minute I set foot on our floor.

I walked in and fought my corner vigorously, explaining that my phone had been off so that "I could rest properly", and that I didn't have a doctor's note as "I was too ill to go", and "didn't think I needed one for only a few days".

"So, you were really ill, then?"

"Yes, and I resent the accusation that I wasn't"

At which point my boss leaned back, grabbed a remote, and pointed it at the TV in his office...

...revealing a video from the weekend's BBC coverage of the festival, showing me pissed up and lairy, sat astride my friend's shoulders singing along and proudly holding a banner with the words "My boss thinks I'm ill... what a cunt".

"I'll get my coat", quoth I.

~~~~ wavy lines bringing us back to the modern day ~~~~

"That's all well and good, TMD, but what the jiggery fuck has this got to do with buses", I hear you ask?

Well, I waited ages for a relevant QOTW in which to tell this story, then three came along together.

Sorry.
( TheMagicDwarf is back like ballroom dancing, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 14:24, 10 replies)

You cunt.

(Himjim died a little more inside on, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 14:27, closed)

This could have won any of the 'Festivals', 'TV', or 'bosses' QotWs...

I only hope that the tenuous link is enough to get this where it deserves to be this week.

In any case, I will click it with hammers
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Thu 25 Jun 2009, 14:32, closed)

niiiiiiice
click well deserved.
(tb2571989 dies at precisely, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 14:41, closed)

first LOL this QOTW
hence big clicky!
(Beer Elf Thought this was like a campfire, anyhow, on, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 14:44, closed)

This is so complex
I cannot even comprehend
( whenanimalsattackhumans clad in global hypercolour, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 14:47, closed)

Aaahh
Now that is very intelligent punnage. Congrats.
( Rookie You'll have to speak up, I'm wearing a towel, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 15:04, closed)

Oooh. Slick.
Me likey.
(trumpet, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 15:21, closed)

Fuck me
you're a tit.

But I like it! Nice work, matey! click!
( SpankyHanky, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 16:47, closed)

Well played
Have a click, for that was grand.
(DigitalRaven will have to make do with gin, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 22:47, closed)

I suspected something halfway through...
tied together very nicely!

*clicks hard*
(bobming, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 14:13, closed)