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Monday, 18 May 2009

Dear Fuckwit

This morning my mother, who is 67, decided to catch the bus in to Shanklin, pay some bills and then catch the bus through to Ryde to go to Busy Bees garden centre.

The bus that she decided to catch was the 8am bus which meant there would be loads of school children on it. When she got on the bus she saw you sitting in the front seat with your bag on the seat next to you.

She approached you and politely asked if she could sit next to you. You glared at her, but moved your bag.

She sat down and you muttered something so she asked "Excuse me?"

You glared at her again, yanked your coat from where she'd inadvertently sat on it and said "Do you want this seat too?"

Consider yourself very lucky that it took a moment or two for her to register what you had said and that by the time she did, you had already moved.

Consider yourself even luckier that I do not know what you look like, dear fuckwit, or I would be all over you like a ton of bricks.

How DARE you talk to my mother that way! She was courteous and polite, sitting on your coat was an accident, she didn't do it on purpose and while she may be overweight (I consider us both to be cuddly hourglass figures, dear readers), your crack about her size was completely uncalled for.

If you ever see her again and she's with a younger woman with tattoos and gothic clothing, I suggest you!

Because if I ever find out who you are, fuckwit. I'll rip you to shreds!

Yours sincerely

One extremely pissed off daughter of the best mum in the whole world!

PS, I hope you enjoyed riding with all the noisy school kids!

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