Most of the passengers are already aboard when the driver arrives to silently count heads. This he does several times: up and down the aisle, seemingly confused although he says nothing before leaving the coach and disappearing. At five o clock he re-embarks with news of a diversion. ‘Well, they’ve said we’ve got to go to Ammersmif now. Ammersmif! Apparently there’s a party waiting at Ammersmif. If yoove got a bag on the seat yood better move it cos there’s not going to be any room for bags when we get to Ammersmif.’ The driver starts his engine and we rumble out of Victoria and resume reading our free copies of the Evening Standard.
‘My name’s Pauwl’, shouts Paul. ‘If you want anyfing yoo can shout Pauwl or geezer or oi. Now I’m doing the safety stuff. I’ll have to do it again when we get to Ammersmif for the next party but we aint there yet so I’m doing it now. At the back of the coach is an emergency exit. That’s the back door. At the front is anover one and that’s the front door. Opposite the back door is a box. That’s the toilet. In the roof are some over exits. Those are the windows. There are seat belts. Yoor sposed to wear em. Yoo want to know anyfing else shout Pauwl. Right, next stop Ammersmif. Ok?’
‘Ok’, we all agree in unison. The young man in the seat across the aisle from me is giving someone instructions on the phone. They seem to involve Ammersmif where we arrive in no time at all. The young man gets off the coach to have a word with Pauwl. He wants him to wait for his friend who is on the way to the coach stop.
‘He’s nearly here’, says the young man. The Ammersmif party have already boarded and Pauwl is anxious to get a move on.
‘Where is e then’ he demands? ‘Yoor mate, where is e?’ Pauwl goes round the front of the coach, steps into a stream of traffic and looks back down the road. ‘Is e that geezer running down the central reservation?’
The geezer running down the central reservation is indeed the missing passenger. ‘Good effort mate’, says Pauwl as we set off again. ‘Right’, shouts Pauwl, ‘next stop Wingwood, awright?’
‘Yes’, we all agree in unison. We know what’s coming next.
‘Right, for the benefit of the party wot got on at Ammersmif, I’m doing the safety announcement. I’ve done it once but now it’s got to be done again because we ad to stop at Ammersmif. At the back of the coach is an emergency exit. It’s called the back door…’
We leave London by some tedious route. The traffic is vile but eventually, like Mr Toad, we find ourselves on the more or less open road. An unpleasant smell pervades our area towards the front of the coach. We look around to see who might be the cause but there are no obvious suspects. The horrid smell is getting worse. It seems impossible that it can be emanating from a single person. I leave my seat and stumble forward to inform the driver.
‘Driver’, I say. No response. ‘Pauwl’, I shout and Pauwl swerves across two lanes narrowly avoiding becoming the cause of a major traffic incident. ‘There’s a nasty smell’. I begin.
‘Yoo wot’, he replies in a state of some confusion.
‘Your coach stinks’, I shout, whereupon, to my surprise, everyone else aboard shouts ‘yes, your coach stinks’. Everyone’s always waiting for someone to make the first move.
‘Is it the toilet’, shouts Pauwl? ‘Is it blocked?’
‘I don’t know and I’m not going to look’, I inform him.
‘Can yoo open the windows in the roof’, he asks? ‘Or shall I stop only we need to get to Wingwood?’
‘No, don’t stop’, we all shout together; ‘we want to get to Wingwood.’ I don’t like the sound of opening the windows in the roof. Weren’t they the emergency exits? A man in the front seat comes to my aid and together we open the roof window. Having been alerted to the fact that others were suffering from the nasty smell, I shout down to the back of the coach: ‘can you smell it down there?’
‘Yes’, they all agree and the man from the front seat traverses the length of the aisle to release the rear roof window. We continue.
‘Is it any better now’, shouts Pauwl? ‘I mean, I don’t know oos been driving this coach all day. I only took it on at Victoria and nobody told me about the toilets. Do yoo want me to stop or shall I look in them at Wingwood?’
‘It’s much better’, we all agree.
‘Next stop Wingwood then. Awright?’
‘Awright’, we respond in unison.