Naughty, bad, evil writing
Don’t touch that.
Well I wouldn’t buy it.
But its only the Sun.
Picking it up. An old newspaper.
Its not old.
Its just been left on the seat.
On the bus. Horrible.
But we’re sat here. That’s okay.
No. It makes me feel dirty.
But why is it bad to read the paper?
Filthy. Look at it.
It looks okay to me.
Pages are turned.
Well, I suppose just here its
slightly marked. Perhaps it
was being read by someone with
particularly dirty eyes.
Now you’re just taking the piss.
No, seriously. I can just imagine them,
sat here, dust falling from their
retinas. I bet the bus was spotless
before they started to look at it.
STOP MOCKING ME
Yes you are. You’ve turned me into a story.
That’s not mocking. That’s adoration.
It looks like mocking to me.
Maybe just a bit of mocking.
Or just m’ing
A bit of mocking
Don’t be silly. And get it away from me
You want me to m at you from across the bus?
I want you to move the newspaper.
Does it ming?
Its touching my legs.
Oh dear. Perhaps I’d better cut them off
when we get back.
If you’re not careful you won’t be coming back.
Not even if I wrap myself in newspapers
first? Look, there’s one here. It should
help to catch any dust from my eyes.
The bus carries on for a bit.