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.