You Won’t Believe Me

I had a great post lined up to today, sparked off by something I saw this morning. As with most flights of fancy, it hinges on reality, but you wouldn’t believe me, so I’m not going to run with it.

There’s no point. I’d lose your trust and respect and that means too much to me. But here’s the truth of it:

This morning, I saw a number 666 bus.

See? Told you. It’s too perfect. The rest just writes itself – “oh how convenient,” you say….. (etc) And I hear you, believe me, but I did.

There is no 666 route in London. The driver was being trained in a car park, but London Transport had the number of the beast clearly displayed all over the bus.

I now have whole journal entries in my head:
1) A father and son buy a one way fare to hell.
2) Satan comes up to London for the day to endorse the 2012 Olympic Bid. “Oh sure – the Pope gets his own car, God can be everywhere at once and they give me a bus. I still haven’t gotten over the crawling on my belly punishment. One apple! I’m getting too old for this.”
3) Said 666 bus flips over, revealing the number 999, which a kid called Gabriel dials to get the emergency services, saving dozens of lives.
4) The bus conductor turns out to be Jesus undercover who wrestles the steering wheel from the claws of Satan the driver, hellbent on driving the vehicle into a convent

I even had a title for the story – “Beelzebus”.

But you wouldn’t have believed me about the 666 bus I saw in London this morning.