London English

So typical, in London they say buses always come in threes but in Paris they never seem to come at all, so I started killing time by talking to my wife on the phone. After what seemed like ages the bus finally arrived. I was just about to climb aboard when a really strange person barged in front of me. His grubby long overcoat looked like it had crawled out of the trenches. His scraggy neck seemed to need scaffolding to support the weight of his head. His hair was pinned upwards with a clasp in the form of a bowler hat, his face was ashen and his eyes were glazed like icing on a cake. He looked as crazy as a box of frogs. Stumbling to the last seat at the back, leaving me hanging, he began shouting out non-associative verbiage, one after the other. Things like: “Good job pigs can’t fly or we’ll all be covered in muck”, followed by: “If you externalize excessively do you become internally blank?” Other passengers couldn’t believe their ears. I was very intrigued and crept towards him so that I could listen but stumbled and trod on his feet. He opened his mouth and started swearing at me, it was unbelievable. I lost my temper and asked him to desist, he then finally ceased ranting and ran away.

Later, I was walking down the road, saw him, and told his friend that he ought to buy a new button for his mad mate, not to replace the one missing on his overcoat, but to button his lip.