The Bard of Stratford Central

   An elderly geezer on the 388 bus to Stratford Central mutters away to himself as he gazes out of the window. It is a surreal stream-of-consciousness ramble of bizarre juxtapositions. 
   "Oh, remember that woman who lived there? She was a lovely lady, really lovely... That's where Jim fell down the manhole... It won't be the same once they knock all them houses down... Not so cold these days... Lovely bit of bacon... Betty certainly had something to say to 'er - what was 'er name? Judith? Jenny?... Over the canal... Over the canal... Over the canal... Bloody idiot - you wanna watch where you're goin', mate!... Why ain't them kids in school on a Monday mornin'?..."
  After twenty minutes of this running commentary he reached his stop. He left the bus and shuffled over to an old woman who was standing in the bus shelter and yelled "BOLLOCKS!" into her very startled face.

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