This particular poem is about a period when I and some similarly bored low-paid friends used to hang out on buses... yes really. We would buy a ticket called a rover which allowed us to travel all over the City of Peterborough and it's districts on a double-decker. I would like to think that we did something constructive on these trips but all that happened was that we would arrive at the terminus wait while the driver had his fag break (usually in the bus) then returned from whence we came. In fact we may well have been the rowdies that the poem refers to, and ironically (lost on me at the time of writing) the people that I seem to sneer at for always being on the buses almost certainly had a lower opinion of me and my friends for exactly that same reason.
The poem was written in Mid December 1982 at time when economically things were pretty tough in the UK. Reading it back it was clearly inspired by John Cooper Clarke and I find that I still recite it at speed in a nasally northern accent.
Note: I subsequently found a later draft if anyone noticed that the post has changed slightly.
Do People Really Piss on Buses?
And People say you're eighteen now
Why haven't you got a car?
But they' must be blind if they can't see
Do people really piss on buses?
Copyright Erroll Jones
Do People Really Piss on Buses?
And People say you're eighteen now
Why haven't you got a car?
But they' must be blind if they can't see
that YOP* money doesn't get you very far.
So it's a double-deck in shades of red,
Fag-ends, Graffitti (Punx not dead)
And Wander-bus tickets that'll take you anywhere
Down to the Cornwall Coast where they breathe pure air
But It's all in vain
So it's a double-deck in shades of red,
Fag-ends, Graffitti (Punx not dead)
And Wander-bus tickets that'll take you anywhere
Down to the Cornwall Coast where they breathe pure air
But It's all in vain
'Cause they take you back to the city man, where
It's the toxic fumes of a rapidly declining industry
One thousand more bodies thrown on the heap
And what do we blame? the Japanese imports
But all you gotta do, is sell your GTI and ends may meet
Hey! you could always use our public transport.
So what's with this mid evening rush
Same faces same time
A social crime of deprivations and
It's the toxic fumes of a rapidly declining industry
One thousand more bodies thrown on the heap
And what do we blame? the Japanese imports
But all you gotta do, is sell your GTI and ends may meet
Hey! you could always use our public transport.
So what's with this mid evening rush
Same faces same time
A social crime of deprivations and
sexual frustrations
To shout Bingo! the highlight of their night
To shout Bingo! the highlight of their night
Then there are the rowdies at the back
Who shout off their mouths
Then immediately feel daft
'Cause nobody laughs
Who shout off their mouths
Then immediately feel daft
'Cause nobody laughs
And their jokes on them.
And as my night plays out in short start stops
I perceive this awful smell of Christ knows what
Which brings me back to the point
And as my night plays out in short start stops
I perceive this awful smell of Christ knows what
Which brings me back to the point
I originally meant to raise
Do people really piss on buses?
Copyright Erroll Jones
* Youth Opportunities Program









