London.
A typical London scene.
The London bus network is one of the largest in the world. It runs for 24 hours a day with 8,000 buses 700 bus routes and over 6 million passenger journeys made every weekday.
Jessie and Phemie had decided to do some shopping. The lads were more into the history of the city, the architecture and the local ale-houses;
‘Francie, we’ll take the tour bus an’ we’ll be able tae use oor bus passes,’ said Josie.
‘Sure, Josie, sure, Josie,’ said Francie.
‘Here comes oor cheap charabang, Francie, feel free tae follae me,’ said Josie.
‘Sure, Josie, sure, Josie, feel free tae follae ye, that’s a guid yin, Josie,’ said Francie.
The tour guide girl appeared just as the lads had taken their seats;
‘Good morning gents, may I see your tickets, please?’ she asked the two penniless Pensioners.
The two canny Scotsmen produced their bus passes;
‘I’m sorry gentlemen, but these passes are not valid on the tour bus, you will have to pay,’ she said.
Francie produced a ten pounds note with reluctance;
‘I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t accept foreign currency on the tour bus,’ she said.
‘But it’s a guid Scottish banknote, ye wee eejit,’ replied Francie indignantly.
‘Aye,’ said Josie, ‘It’s bliddy legal tender, ye wee bauchle,’ he said.
‘I’m sorry sir, but we don’t allow bad language on the tour bus,’ the girl said.
The driver of the tour bus, on hearing the commotion arrived on the scene. He was a big chap with a bald head and he was built like a Balerno bull;
‘Can I assist here, Minnie?’ the driver asked.
‘Yes, Paul, these two louts are using vulgarities towards me,’ she said.
The bullish bald bus driver felt the two lads’ collars and ushered them rather unceremoniously off the bus;
‘I wis jist aboot tae have him there, Francie, ye know,’ said Josie, with his chin jutting out in a menacing manner.
‘Sure, Josie, sure, Josie,’ said Francie, with his petted-lip still trembling.
In Hyde Park.
Boaters on the river Thames at Oxford.
The Motorhomers had stopped by the edge of the river Thames at Oxford. The women were sitting supping glasses of gin and tonic water.
‘Look at yon two eejits oot there, Phemie, Popeye an’ his Parrot. They’re in for a doin’ if yon two big Oxford guys come back for their boat,’ said Jessie.
‘Jessie, dae ye think that the college wid have evenin’ classes for needlework?’ asked Phemie.
‘Whit wid ye want tae dae needlework for, Phemie?’ asked Jessie.
‘Och, Jessie, I’m forever darnin’ wee holes in Francie’s Long-Johns, Jessie,’ said Phemie.
‘Phemie, It’s that big bliddy hole in the middle that needs a granny-knot,’ said Jessie.
‘Och, Jessie, stoap it, ye’ve got me in stitches,’ said Phemie.
‘That wee bit o’ fresh air oot there’ll gie them appetites like hoarses,’ said Jessie.
‘Och, say ‘Neigh Mare’ Jessie, ye’ll have me weein’ my jodhpurs,’ Phemie said.
‘Och, magic, Phemie, magic, jist pure dead brilliant,’ laughed Jessie.
Meanwhile, in the middle of the river, Francie is being curious;
‘Josie, dae ye think that the college wid have evenin’ classes for plumbin,’ he asked.
‘Francie, I’m delighted tae have anither further opporchancity tae further enhance yer further education. Are ye havin’ bother wi’ yer plumbin’, Francie?’ Josie asked.
‘Aye, Josie, aye, Josie,’ said Francie.
‘Well, my answer’s naw, Francie, an’ I’m starvin’ let’s get ashore an’ we’ll get a full English breakfast before noon.’ said Josie.
‘Sure, Josie, sure, Josie, a full English breakfast, Josie,’ said Francie.
The Full English Breakfast.
For the adventures of Francie and Josie, click here.
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