My Ride on the 26, by Mat Woolfenden

Hoh hoh hoh that Mat Woolfchap certainly spills the beans. A great read from a great man on a great website.

The Number 26

It takes an hour.  Can you imagine an hour on the bus?  As a veteran of the journey I certainly do not drink that final coffee at half past four pm.  Instead I am stood at the urinal shaking out the last dangerous drop of betrayal.  A flick and a flick. I have seen them, the casualties, the men in their desperation climbing the big window on the bus, and hanging it, all skin at the little high window on a bus, riding hills at forty miles an hour, the urine streaking like a formula one jet engine thing.

But how did I get to this drama? I need to tell my bus journey from the beginning. You know I never used to worry about ‘taking a piss.’ Like a worm in the mind, it creeps up on a schedule. Before you know or comprehend you have that twitch, bladder…

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