- Lovely implausibly clean cut Jehova's Witnesses. Where do they find such archetypal Nice Boys? I'm sure they must grow them in poly tunnels somewhere in Nevada.
- A weird set piece: here a crazy lady taking on a gang of da youth for their lack of discretion in sneezing. It included a line that went something like "A retired nurse once told me that the louder you sneeze the more GERMS you spread". The youth did some jeering and the crazy lady said something to her neighbour, by now wishing she had just stayed at work for an extra ten minutes, about "all their orifices working".
- A ridiculous paranoid statement from the crazy lady, really getting into her stride by this stage: "you can get AIDS from those poles". And an instruction, on getting off the tram, to the rest of us "Savonnez vous bien!" (soap yourselves well). Er, yes. Sadly the CRAZY won't wash off with mere soap.
- A very very cross fashiony queen having a hystrionic telephone meltdown. I thought initially it was a break up because he was saying things like "I just can't take it any more, I've had enough, it's over", so I sat down opposite him vampirically to listen, sunglasses on for greater discretion. It wasn't though, it was just work.
"Moi je veux bien mais le Miu Miu et le Prada automne-hiver sont même pas etiquettés! Le Gianfranco Ferré non plus. On a rien vendu du Printemps-Eté - MEME PAS LES BIJOUX FANTAISIE!! Tu sais, on a deux boutiques à Londres, une à la Zoute et deux à Paris et nous sommes les seuls à ne pas faire de profit! Moi je veux bien mais je peux pas faire tourner une boutique pour douze vendeuses tout seul, j'en ai marre Je CRAAAQUEEEEUUUH".
Do you want me to translate that? I will if you want, but it's sort of boring. Imagine a sort of whiny, aggrieved freakout with fashion labels in it, delivered by a very tall, thin, sweating man dressed entirely in far too hot for the 30° weather black with a severe pudding bowl haircut and a giant blingy black and gold watch. It was excellent. The whole tram stopped to watch open mouthed.
- Vest Man. I really need to get you a picture of Vest Man. Vest Man wears his Galliano branded vest and skintight jeans every day in all weathers. He has hair like fifteen grey Brillo Pads in a full Kevin Keegan mullet. And hairy hairy grey hairy shoulders. He is totally compelling.
- A classic novel in a weird language. Dutch Sons and Lovers today: "Zonen en minnaars"
-a person consuming a can of beer (double points for early morning sightings);
-a non-ethnic or religious turban;
-someone (usually parent from gulag) I have mortally offended and now have to avoid in tiny confined space of 92 tram;
- a hideously ugly dog
for a full house.
Tell me about your neighbourhood/commute bingo. Don't give me that, I know you play.