Sitting half way between the front and the back of the top deck of the 243, as is my want, I sometimes take out my ‘weirdo-deflectors’, or ‘headphones’ and listen to the conversations of the lovely little young people on their way to a Stamford Hill based school. Most times, it’s a duologue of plain old boring small talk with swearing thrown in to up the ‘look at me swearing of a bus’ kudos factor. But sometimes it’s a lid lifting experience into a whole other world.

GIRL ONE: ah blud, I got mad bubble guts innit

GIRL TWO: what?

GIRL ONE: ’bout this morning innit, mad bubble guts...

GIRL TWO: what? wait, what?

GIRL ONE: i got bubble guts blud, big time

GIRL TWO: (embarrased) …what’s bubble guts?

GIRL ONE: (embarrased) butterflies…

Sometimes the soft plosive won’t cut it, and other harsher words need to be put in place.

n.b. harsher words may add to rep, but won’t be as universally recognised as initially rejected mum taught language.