AT THE HEART OF THE ROAD TRANSPORT INDUSTRY.

Call our Sales Team on 0208 912 2120

How Doth the Little Beastly Bus?

2nd September 1955
Page 65
Page 65, 2nd September 1955 — How Doth the Little Beastly Bus?
Close
Noticed an error?
If you've noticed an error in this article please click here to report it so we can fix it.

Which of the following most accurately describes the problem?

i‘ S INCE when have you taken to reading shorthand in your spare time?" asked Maggie.

"This happens to be Arabic," I said,, holding up a slim pamphlet, " and there is an English translation provided. This copy has the distinction of being the only one•that has so far found its way out of the land of Busq, where it was published."

"What a curious title," said Maggie. " ' The London Bus in Captivity.' I know the London bus is sometimes a bit shy and hard to .find-'--" Farouche ' is perhaps the word," I, said.

—but I have never thought," Maggie continued. " of comparing it with a wild animal to that extent."

" We have grown up with the bus," I said. " We regard it as domesticated and take its habits for granted. People from strange lands who come across a bus for the first time find its behaviour strange and discon certing." .

" No amount of familiarity could altogether dull that particular feeling," Said Maggie. "I gather that the author in whom you are so engrossed does not know his subject very well."

' Sultan's 96 Children

" He certainly looks at the bus with the innocent eye. But if his knowledge of mechanical transport is weak, he has studied other subjects diligently. He is among the 96 children of the Sultan of Busy, and he happens to be a qualified zoologist, with half the alphabet after. his name." .

" Are there no buses where he comes from? "

" Bing is a tiny-kingdom somewhere in the Middle Last," I said. "There is oil beneath the desert, and consequently the Sultan finds himself as wealthy as Ali Baba. Somebody told him about the London bus and he wants to breed a fleet of his own. He has oil enough to feed them on. So What can be more natural than that he shOuld send over here his son, Buswallah, who happenS to be an animal expert."

" It was misleading to tell the Sultan that buses were animals." said Maggie.

" Perhaps nobody told him so. On the other hand, nobody told him they were not. If Buswallah has since found out, he has kept his knowledge to himself.

•• It is scarcely his job to teach his father the facts of life."

Life Cycle of the Bus

And the penalty in Busq for contradicting one's parents may be excessive by our standards," I replied. "Whatever his private opinions, Buswallah has shown himself a keen observer in this pamphlet of his. which_ represents the fruits of his visit to this country. He has studied the life cycle of the bus with great care, and is never at a loss for a theory."

"It would be worth While having his views on the life ey::.le of the passengers as well," mused Maggie.

" tle gives them at times," I said. "For example, he records the habit that each bus has of following the same run time and time again, and he notes how convenient this is for the people who use the bus as a beast of burden."

" He might have added," said Maggie, "a comparison with the chameleon, and told his father how the buses

have the faculty of changing their. numbers to blend with the surroundings, so that the bus that arrives at the stop never has the number you want.",

" Buswallah appears to have Missed that. point," 1 admitted "Hut he has a good deal to say about that strange institution, the bus stop. Coming from a country where animals are kept strictly in their place, he was baffled at first by the arrogance of the bus and the humility of the public."

"It 'must seem odd to the overseas visitor," said Maggie. "I was reading the other day about the natives of a place in SouthAfrica. If their bus is late, they throw stones at it. The temptation is sometimes intense."

A Sacred Animal

" That is what Buswallah must have thought. Where he comes from, temptation is not something you resist. After some consideration, he reached the only possible conclusion The bus is a sacred animal, and the bus stop is the shrine where it is worshipped, more particularly at certain hours of the day."

" And London Transport are the High Priests," said Maggie.

"Or. rather, magicians," I said. "According to Buswallah, it is not a very cheerful religion of which we are the devotees.'

With fares at the present level, what can he expect?" said Maggie. "What does he have to say About the bus stop? Having had the company of orfe -for half an hour this morning, I am curious for a second opinion."

"I can best give you that by quoting his actual words,1 said. "They provide a good example of his Levantine prose, the native flourishes showing through even in the translation.

"Form a Queue . .

" Set high upon a tablet for all to see are the words, "Form a queue facing this sign." These are words of magic that at once compel all who approach to stand one behind the other in a line, each one wearing that look of frozen dejection one sees always on the face of a man bound in some strong enchantment. I am told that, should a newcomer stand in front of those already there, he is at once torn into pieces by the rest. This part of the ritual I did not witness for myself; it would have been a pleasure. It must be rarely that the words of magic fail to work. Strange is it also that no anger is directed towards the magician who caused the tablet to be erected.'

"Buswallah has a supplementary theory," I went on. "He maintains that the famous English characteristic of love of animals is shown most clearly in the affection for the bus."

"He should bear what a woman said about them the other day when she had waited 20 minutes with a full shopping bag," said Maggie.

" I must add," I said, "that thc bus-love he detects in the English he does not himself share. He writes about the buses at times in much the same strain as Swift used to describe the yahoos."

Perhaps he had to stand in just one queue too many," said Maggie.

Tags

Locations: London

comments powered by Disqus