FUCKING ON THE BUS

‘Fucking Bedminster,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t go there,’ he said. ‘If I did there’d be more fucking chance of bumping into him,’ he said.
They’d got on at Old Market.
‘Two to the Centre. Thanks.’
Sat on separate seats until the roundabout – not far.
‘He’s a fucking paedophile, he is,’ said the man sat next to him, in front of me.
‘A paedophile?’
‘Sixty-five and shagging her? He’s a fucking paedophile.’
‘He’s not sixty-five, he’s sixty-two.’
‘Sixty-two then, and shagging her, I'm telling you,' he said, ‘he’s a fucking paedophile.’