Never Argue With the Designated Driver...
Tonight, after a very long (and rather boring) day in work, I arrived in Aberdare in the midst of a torrential downpour. It was far too wet to walk home, so I took refuge in the pub until the next Rail-Linc [sic] bus, about an hour later. The Rail-Linc service is only open to rail passengers, and you have to produce a valid train ticket in order to travel on it. I've got a monthly ticket, so I knew I could just walk onto the bus. It was worth wasting an hour, just so I could get home without getting soaked through. I returned to the station as the bus pulled in, and a few minutes before the incoming train arrived. A minute later, a young lad dressed in the typical Chav uniform came to the door of the bus. He asked the driver how much it was to travel to his stop. The driver told him it was fifty pence, and the lad called his mates over. Now, there were nine of these Chavs giving various excuses to the driver about 'losing their tickets' and 'missing the bus' and so