Thomas

The Beastie family enjoyed a wee weekend away, where we sat in the sunshine, cooked ourselves in the onsen, ate a seventeen-course Japanese feast for dinner and breakfast, and slept in a posh room with a view of Mount Fuji. Coming back, we purchased tickets, boarded the bus and got our books out. Two minutes later, the conductor threw us off the bus. “Bus number 2” he said. “Wait”. Having ejected us, bus number 1 tootled off, half-full, in the direction of Tokyo, leaving us busless and bewildered on the platform. Beast was none too happy. “Cunt” he said. “That was our fucking bus. We’ll be waiting here for fucking ages now.” A couple of minutes later, a huge blue bus drew into the station, with Thomas the Tank Engine painted on the sides. “Bus number 2” it proclaimed on the windscreen. It had legroom, cupholders, and Thomas the Tank Engine curtains and antimacassars. Beast’s mood quickly lifted.