Oh What A Night...

Well it's been bit of a non-stop weekend for me. Drinking, drinking and well to be frank drinking. Still if it hadn't been for the booze I'd never have met Juan.

The journey home on the night bus is normally a challenge at the most sober of times, trying to keep myself from passing out and missing my stop by three days. However Friday night there was good reason to stay awake, notably in the form of some Mediterranean piece of filth, who I was later to discover was called Juan.

Now I was obviously traveling at the quietest time in the evening for the night bus. With very few passengers on board I was surprised when this Latino lovely came and sat at the back of the bus next to myself. Readers can I just take an aside here - thank you - does anyone else get that thing on the bus when the vibration of the bus causes you to get an, er, well, an embarrassing case of hormonal overload?

Anyway back to the story, people London, they're not usually particularly chatty? Not Juan though, he introduces himself and starts chatting to me. I naturally feel the need to engage. Clerkenwell, Shoreditch, Bethnal Green all slip by un-noticed. "I get off here" says Juan "How about you?". I don't know if it's the sudden braking of the bus or an emotional instinct, I lurch forward and exit the bus. I don't need to explain the rest of the sordid details, how he smelt (well like discarded fast-food wrappers if you must know) his home (smelt bad too - like off Cillit Bang)...

The next sound I remember hearing is the shower running, I wander in, I open the door, and there stark, bollock, naked is Bobby Ewing. I'm sorry. Come again? (he wishes) I look down and discover I am Pam Ewing, what is going on?

"Last Stop Leystonstone, this bus terminates here, all change please", damn it, why do I always fall asleep on the night bus?

*This story may not be true at all.