Every seven minutes at that time of day. And as it’s only four stops from the end of the route no one new is going to be getting on. Ridiculous! We want to go home and it sits there. (I’d have got off and walked the rest of the way but it’s all uphill from there.)
I live in Edinburgh and the Fringe is on. Where do you want to start?
I’ll tell you where I’ll start. Bus stop queues. Now, from September to July, it’s a pretty straightforward process. Queue starts inside the stop and continues outwith, depending on the length of queue. Bus comes, people get on, look as dour as possible, get off at the relevant stop, continue on with their existence.
Not in August, no fuckity way, pal. The aforementioned rational way of queueing remains in place, but now a section of free-thinking maverick radicals (often rucksack wankers) gather to the right of the bus stop and attempt to barge their way on first when the bus arrives. The resultant melee, which closely resembles a deleted scene from Dawn Of The Dead, is then often given an extra hint of irk by the inevitable presence of some thunderc*nt strolling along the kerb on the outside of the bus stop, attempting to head both parties off at the pass.
Just get in the fucking queue to begin with, you shower of pricks. Princes Street is a bloody long street, there’s room enough for everyone.
Heritage Rock Bore will be appearing as Stewart Lee at the Gilded Balloon, 5th-29th August.
Is this not how it always works with buses?
I suggest you avoid the centre for the next month to avoid the rage.
I’m nearly 40, I need something insignificant to complain about, otherwise they’ll take the membership card away.
Besides, I work at Holyrood so it’s unavoidable. Just a shame it’s recess, would have nipped up to the First Minister’s office and asked for an emergency law to be passed allowing these people to be shot for sport. And then sell the highlights package to the Arsenal chairman. #quidsin
I’m here all week, folks. Book now to ensure disappointment.
As I discovered yesterday, no buses, trams or taxis can get through the east end of Princes St at the moment anyway. I’d just enjoy the fact these folk have paid £1.60 for a hot, sweaty, overcrowded box which they’ll be stuck on for 30 minutes or so without getting anywhere.
Ah, the Jenners traffic lights, basically purgatory but without a member’s bar.
Don’t be a dickhead son
Omg, when I visited @guntrip and his gf in Edinburgh I totally pushed in because I was still in London scrum mode. Felt so bad when she pointed out what I’d done I said sorry to everyone on the bus
You, my friend, shall be spared while the others go to the wall.
Tbf I bet there’s plenty of posts in here about over talkative retail employees too. What’s the perfect balance, like 10 words per interaction?
When I follow a group or something on FB and then get endless updates about other people, total strangers, who happened to have posted in the group. I GIVE NO FUCKS. And unfollowing seems to have done nothing to kerb the tide of updates about how Graham Johnson is selling some shitty overdrive pedal for twice what it’s worth …
As a result of incompetency in another department, my phone number ended up on a load of debit notes and invoices at work. Having to deal with and redirect phone calls from folk who need a completely different area of the business is irking enough…
But when the caller go straight in off the deep end and talks for 30 seconds without me being able to get a word in to tell them “Sorry pal, wrong number”.
‘Well, this is the number on the paperwork’
Yeah, and don’t I fucking know it…
guardian app sending push notifications to my phone about man marries goat etc.
Breaking News popup on BBC News app.
IF IT’S BREAKING NEWS, JUST PUT IT AT THE TOP OF THE FUCKING PAGE. Fuck off while I’m scrolling down to see if Mrs Trellis of North Wales has had her wall fall over or whatever.
Fuck sake, just went to buy an edition of something. Item listed as:
[Title] [Number] 1st Printing, Cover A - Death of [Character]
OH GO FUCK YOU, ONLINE SELLER TWAT.
People telling you how many emails they have, in any context.
Inbox contains over 1000 emails? Fuck off.
200 emails on your return from holiday? That’s jobs, prick.
Completely cleared your unread emails? Up your arse.