Friday, December 18, 2009

Great weather for air strikes.


You'll need your umbrella in this weather - Granny Glasgow.

THIS BUS IS UNDER ATTACK! CALL 999! WOO-WOO-WOO!

THIS BUS IS UNDER ATTACK! CALL 999! WOO-WOO-WOO!

A fuck, isn't under attack. Just knocked the bloody sensor off. Now this voice is declaring state of emergency. Jesus Christ. First week on the job too. Lights flashing on and off like Blackpool illuminations. Siren screetching as well. Just knocked the switch – bang! – Orwellian bus shut down. Strictly a security precaution, in case psychos or neds, kick off. Old dears are probably terrified up the back. Think mayhem uncaged up the stairs. Think we're under attack. Think the bloody bus has been hijacked by a rogue driver.

THIS BUS IS UNDER ATTACK! CALL 999! WOO-WOO-WOO!

Need to pull over at this stop: get this fucker off. 'You alright, Son.' An old dear is up at my side as we slow to a stop. Her eyes doe wide. 'What's that voice saying? It's hell of a loud, and the lights flashing. This bus possessed?' Trying to be funny she is. Strains to hear me. 'Don't worry love, I've just knocked the alarm, we're no under attack.' She didn't quite understand. 'O right...well, I hope you get it sorted, Son, the state of things nowadays, the whole town should be ringing like an alarm.' She clung to the door and lowered herself down to pavement. A few passengers jumped off after, heads down, sheepish – half startled no doubt – not sure to run or laugh.

THIS BUS IS UNDER ATTACK! CALL 999! WOO-WOO-WOO!

Pedestrians stop left and right to look at the bus. Lights flash like a disco tech. They've never seen anything like it. The voice of a woman from down south, blaring like she's on a megaphone, sounding a touch like a female robot . You can hear it louder on the outside than on the inside. Maybe they're all thinking she's the one in trouble. Everyone in the whole fucking street can hear this no doubt. Folk peering from windows. Thinking terrorists or the CIA has come to Glasgow. Total mess.

THIS BUS IS UNDER ATTACK! CALL 999! WOO-WOO-WOO!

'Everything all right mate.' A passerby, tall skinny guy, stops at the open door with a look of caution. Eyeing the passengers downstairs. 'Something going on upstairs. It is drunks? Kids going radio? Did they do a runner?' I wish I could say aye, chaos, been getting belted with bricks, woman assaulted, dynamite upstairs. But, I fiddle with security buttons, fingers shake anxious with nerve. 'No, Sir, everything is fine. I don't know how to stop this alarm, you see. Went off by itself'.' He smiles. 'Ah, OK, not to worry then, just the bus crying wolf.' He walks away with a smug smile on his face, looking at the bus like it was a fireworks display or a comedy show.

THIS BUS IS UNDER ATTACK! CALL 999! WOO-WOO-WOO!

Not many passengers on mind, half a dozen up stairs, five down. All deafened by this English woman telling us all to call the police. Jesus. Like fucking Orwell right enough. God help us when something serious does happen. Imagine that. Some nut job with a knife, holding passengers hostage or decides to drive the bus over the bridge on the Clyde. Doesn't bare thinking about. Seriously but, what driver in his right mind, would hit the alarm if some chaos did kick off? What's he going to do? Stay in his seat, behind the Perspex window, letting drunk wolves have a free for all on the bus, until the police come, only to find him cowering under his jacket, and the bus empty. Cringing man. No fucking nut job or a suicide bomber in sight. Just this robot nipping our heads. Maybe folk think I've panicked, I'm lost, can't hack the 7 route anymore, flipped a switch wanting to go home.

THIS BUS IS UNDER ATTACK! CALL 999! WOO-WOO-WOO!

Shit, here comes the 12, pulling up behind me. Driver will be off like a shot, thinking there's trouble, been plugged in the artery. Jesus. Things aren't that bad really. It's the papers. Everyone should get along enough to remain sane. Here he comes, running along the street, panic on his face. He jumps onto the bus – big chap – bit out of breath – eyes alert. 'You OK driver, what's happened?' He steadies himself on the ticket machine. 'I'm a fucking idiot, that's what's happened. Knocked the fucking sensor off, so I did, with my elbow, I think. Canny shut it. She'll have the riot squad down here. Half the street will think we're under siege.' 'Aye, they'll be thinking it's the Middle East. Here, I'll give you a hand, there's a code to deactivate this chaos. Now, let's see if I can remember it.'

THIS BUS IS UNDER ATTACK! CALL 999! WOO-WOO-WOO!

2 comments:

Jim Murdoch said...

The story is fine, very good. My only real thought is the degree of Scottishness in the text compared to some of your other pieces. If they're going to be presented as a unified work then you want the tone to be set the same throughout. This one will be more accesible to non-Scots but personally I think it suffers a bit because of it. A hard call I know.

the broken down barman said...

happy new year pal, and a belated merry xmas as well.
liked the story. Good idea and well put across. keep it up