A whole bunch of Tube employees are striking which means London is practically subwayless.
It's remarkable how 2,300 greedy communist underground train workers can completely cripple a city of eight million. It's bedlam. Folks are a-pushin' and a-shovin' just to get on the bus. The bus! Nobody wants to get on the bus but fights have been breaking out the past couple of nights over getting a place on the bus.
The bus!
I've been almost unaffected by the madness. I live near one of the few lines that is still functioning and it seems everyone else has decided to take the bus (the bus!) leaving me with the train to myself. Well, not to myself, it's still crowded and smells like feet but whatevs. I deal.
In other news: I haven't been able to get the theme song to The Nanny out of my head for a couple of days now. It pops up randomly and then subsides, ebbing and flowing, tide-like, without ever going away completely.
Kristy had never heard it before so I sang a few bars for her. When I got to the line "... What was she to do, where was she to go, she was out on her fannnneeeee..." she busted up laughing. You see, fanny means vagina here.
Hardee-friggin'-har.
Thing is, I've never watched the show. This happens time and again. With TV theme songs. Should I be worried? Because I am a little.
1 comment:
Fanny, huh? That seems like a really odd thing to call a fanny. Pants being underwear, the trunk being a boot, this I can take. But what does it mean to a brit, then, if you mention casually that your fanny itches because you didn't properly wipe the crap from it?
Eww.
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