Children, Loud Music and Happy Slapping

I don’t know about you, peeps, but I absolutely hate having to endure sitting on a bus having to listen to some teeny bop music, at full volume ranting on about “shez aint ma babeeeee anymore, cause Iz a man, with nuff, nuff bling and ting and she disrespected me wid another brotha’s brotha, bang, bang, I took her out.” In fact, I don’t really care if the music is from S-Club, turn it down or put in your ear-plugs.

Once upon a time, you used to have to sit on top of the bus to put up with all the ghetto kids. The top of the bus was the place to be, if you thought you were hard and bad. The top of the bus was a place where you thought you could do ‘tings’ and get away with them, and no-one would really know. This was because your parents, their friends and relatives were either too old, with walking stick in tow, or unwell to climb the stairs to the top of the bus. So up there, in your own private den, where only the wicked and lower end of society met, you were DON. Yet, back in the day no matter what you thought you were, believe me there was always someone brave enough to drag their tired carcass up those stairs, with zimmer frame carefully balanced on the head to holler at you to “turn down de music, before I brek up that walkman.” If you ever tried answering back, then buoy, not only Police would be waiting for your ignorant carcass on your descent, but your parents, would’ve found out through the grapevine what you had done.

Nowadays, forget it. If anyone brave enough did tried to intervene, politely asking to “turn the music down a lickle” you’d be set upon, attacked, whilst some nerd in a hoodie caught it on mobile phone and happy-slapped your beat up and bruised-up carcass with black eyes to every child in the vicinity. Then to make sure, everyone knew who did the deed, there’d be a group hug session at the end of the video clip, showing every ignorant and back-a-yard picknie, smiling showing the “V” sign and saying “yeah blud, we did it”.

No longer is the top of the bus the place to be for things like murder, a bit of nookie, swearing and other things that could send a gal or buoy to detention centres. They’ve moved into the downstairs zone. The zone that was once a forbidden place. The zone where respect could still be found and where decent folk sat.

There have been so many times, when my kids have had to tell me to “hold it down mum” because I’ve just wanted to get up and hoof kick these kids in the head. When I get on a bus, sometimes, this is the only time to get a bit of piece and quiet and I just want to sit in my own little world or read. But no, my entire world for a good 20 minutes is usually invaded by some child, raising my blood pressure, playing their music loudly.

This certainly shows a lack of respect on a level that we could never contemplate, back in the day and you know what, I am so tempted to do the same with a classical piece of music on day or some vibes from my weak Reggae selection blasting “Buffalo Soldier” inna their ears and see how they like that. I’d probably get my head kicked in actually whilst the image is happy-slapped across the neighborhood.

I don’t think I’d be on a winning streak at all here. So maybe I’ll just take some Chamomile before I get on a bus, inhale with love and exhale a whole heap of hate when I get off.