Forget Fresh-Coating The Ceiling

Our polish bus driver stands with others rotund looks like a pirate swashbuckling smoking at the terminus gossiping. Pulling-up his pantaloons navy-trousers ever so slyly drops his cig butt …spits; on-board he tells us we all must mask-up. Demands the correct money quite abrupt he reissues tickets, end-date encrypt. With un-gloved paws: destination-reached. We queue to step inside a multi-store with shopping lists its Christmas once more hoping the shop, its-shelves they're replete. With white silk emulsion, rollers, brushes. A square planter for a Bay tree, but nag, finding nothing at all. The emulsion is Matt the brushes they're all like 1inch drumsticks. The rollers all gone and planters have too. Back on the bus, I'm social-distancing now nothing's new, people are-grimacing stuff your social-distancing, f*** you. None are-distanced none, none is wearing masks, a girl berates the fact to her smartphone a man enters like he's on methadone it's all like some Shakespearean play cast. All this while I'm reading the Metro Talk regarding face coverings, bus driver Gary, - Manchester, I'm a bus driver and we've been told he goes on to squawk we can't enforce this new law or refuse anyone to travel as it might then lead to a conflict he goes on to vent; all I-wanted-now was to go Barging Booze. Look, forget fresh-coating the ceiling love, I've had a bucket-full of COVID-19, "Enough."