Oh the sybaritic life of the urbanite, with their big red/yellow/blue/green/orange buses passing the end of their road, and trains and all sorts of wonderful inventions for moving people about the streets.
How I long for the smell of the exhaust fumes and the noise of the traffic, I really don't know how I manage to bear a life of fresh air and clean water. I prefer having no bus services, and the nearest station 3 miles away, and all of FOUR trains in one whole day. Yes sir, I really think I should sell my fully paid up house and move to the big city, buy a house at twice what this one is worth, all for the joys of paying far too much to travel on smelly and after about 9 PM, perilous public transport. Oh why did I ever quit London after 35 glorious years and move to this backwater of a place. I'm sure that when I retire officially in October Mudcatters will have a whip round to help me pay my £1000 per month mortgage, so that they can rest secure in the knowledge that I have access to the wonderful efficient public transport system. After all pensioners get such large amounts of money from the generous UK government, so I should be able to live like a king.
Choice! What choice?
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