Boys on buses

I was on a bus (tell me if you've heard this somewhere before). I had chosen, unusually for me as I am somewhat short of stature, to sit downstairs. I did not know where I was going and wanted to be able to leap to my feet and off the bus at a moment's notice.

I digress.

I was sitting there desperately trying not to murder the woman next to me who was humming not totally under her breath but not out loud either. And sitting on me a bit. We pulled into a bus stop.

At the bus stop was a youth. You get them in London. He was wearing a baseball cap and his ear was pierced and he had some facial hair.

As I said, a youth.

He was also wearing baggy jeans.

Now I am quite partial to a bit of baggy in the jeans area, I like the way the jeans graze the bottoms of chaps rather than clinging. But if you add the facial hair/earring/baseball cap factors, I think you will guess we are not talking casual-bottom-grazing jeans.

And he had lost his ticket.

He was doing The Ticket Search, the one that frantically goes through all the available clothing orifices.

But his jeans were baggy.

And just when I thought, well, golly, I say, do you know, I think it's possible that they're going to come down, they slid swiftly over his hips and, and, and... well I can hardly bear to say it but

I saw his willy.

It was peeking out the side.

Only a flash mind you.

He obviously felt air because he immediately turned away from the bus and ceased hunting for his ticket, yanking his jeans up in a strangely abrupt manner.

What is it with me and boys on buses?