Ok, I'm taking a wild stab at this particular bus passenger's mental illness, but he's definitely swinging way outside the boundaries of normal 6.30am behaviour.
Mostly it's his singing. A thin, tuneless whine which runs through some easy-listening playlist of radio stations from hell, like someone trying to tune a dial into reality. And then there's the random laughing to himself.
"'Im just a day dreamer, walking in the rain, chasing after rainbows I may never find again...' ha, ha, ha.... 'walk like a man, talk like a man, my so-o-o-o-n...' ha, ha, ha... 'And they called it puppy love, why I guess I'll never know, how a young heart really feels...' ha, ha, ha..."
There was a time when I felt some sympathy, but he has been catching the same bus in the morning as me for months. PC-ness: right out the window. The singing, oh and the fact he's stinks like the bottom of an ashtray that's been locked in a vaccuum for a month, is not endearing him to me, or indeed any other passenger. No-one's tutted out loud, but you can see their shoulders drop as he gets on in Withington.
Not surprisingly he gets off at the hospital.
Thank god for ipods. Now all I need is a nosegay.
