The Dublin Bus is a rare machine.
Creeps randomly through the streets of the Irish capital city. Travels mainly in packs of three or more.
Originally designed to follow a man-made time table, the
Dublin Bus, in its earliest days, mutated and now cannot be controlled by its
It is likely that this rebel bus gene has spread to other
cities on the planet, and possibly further a field.
Bussicus Dublinius leaves distinctive droppings, black oozing pools which take on all the colours of the spectrum when exposed to sunlight, although sunshine is rare enough in its native environment. Other tell-tale features to look out for include the noxious fumes belched out from deep within the creature's bowels. Preys on motorists, cyclists and pedestrians in a number of ways:
Will lie motionless in ambush on a roadside, swerving outwards at the last moment on seeing an approaching victim.
Will move at speed through puddles close to the roadside, saturating pedestrians or hitting them with strange reflective protrusions which grow on stalks near the creature's nose.
One of the few creatures known to kill and maim for sport, as to date no evidence has emerged to suggest that Bussicus depends on its victims for food.
The ever-growing Dublin Commuter Cult have a morbid fascination for this beast, and, amongst its members, it is considered pleasurable to ride within the metallic shell draped over the Bussicus endoskeleton. Research continues into the impulses which drive the cult members to these lengths. It is thought that Cult members derive a certain martyr like 'buzz' from sitting around at cult meetings, which can occur in any place, at any time, discussing the duration of their most recent ride.
When visiting the city, watch out for the now famous 'Changing of the Busses', which can also occur in any place and at any time. This phenomenon involves Cult Members climbing out of one of these beasts, straight into another. Most common early in the day. The ritual is thought to be somehow related to the reproduction of Bussicus Dublinius. Following the transfer, the 'donor' bus will lie idle on the roadside for a number of hours, often wallowing in a black pool of its own waste, obstructing others that seek to use the highway, until dragged away by a 'drone' bus, it's destination unknown.
Another unusual phenomenon involves Cult Members clambering aboard Bussicus Dublinius only to realise that they have nothing smaller than a €50 note. After stuffing it into the chute of the 'exact fare machine', the driver (Bussicus Dublinius guardian), gives the Cult Members a change ticket, which will then be folded carefully and placed in a safe inside pocket. The chances are however that the Cult Members will never get around to reclaiming the ticket from the Bussicus Dublinius change ticket office. The office may not even exist for all we know!
Research Status: Ongoing. So many questions remain unanswered.
This material is courtesy of my friends from Wasting time @ Work
Updated: Saturday March 27, 2004