Dublin Bus

…or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Being Late.
Next day. Same time.
Same place.
Let me now officially state unequivocally that if, through some glorious quirk of electoral madness, I had one day in charge our glorious country my first act would be to have the entire management of Dublin Bus, The Department of Transport, and pretty much everyone else related in any way whatsoever to transport in Dublin summarily shot. No Wait maybe that's unfair… Ok I'll settle for Public Hangings. Dublin has the world's worst bus service (don't argue with me or you'll be against the wall too). It's hard to know what element of Dublin Bus is the most infuriating; it's Beckett-esque Timetables (Go on, read Waiting for Godot and substitute "Dublin Bus" for "Godot" – The resemblance is uncanny), it's Kafka-esque pricing structure (€0.37 to the KiloRod, unless the moon is full in Capricorn in which case a Petroleum surcharge of €0.963 applies per Hogshead of Fuel consumed), or its Asshole-esque management. You see Dublin Bus applies many modern principles to it's service including (among many innovations):

• Buses Travel in Convoys to Avoid Insurgent Attacks: sure it means you wait longer than the heat-death of the universe for a Bus, but when it eventually arrives you can take your pick of the 78 identical buses that show up.
• The "As Seirbhís" Decoy: In a cunning ploy reminiscent of Foreplay Dublin Bus goads its waiting passengers with shimmering Mirages on the horizon that hold the promise of Mechanised Travel, Wait, Wait, Wait no As Seirbhís.
• Timetables that require an Advanced Knowledge of the Integral Calculus to determine the Estimated Time of Arrival of a Bus.

More Rants about Dublin Bus will follow, Conclusion of the Foregoing.