Hope the journey back home this evening is a quiet one.
Three weeks ago, (Monday 22 November 2010) it all kicked off on the bus back from Salford University to Piccadilly Gardens.
The driver suddenly stopped the bus in between stops so he could rush upstairs and remonstrate with two horrid little teenage scrotes sitting at the front upstairs. I'm still not sure what they were doing that he disapproved of so vehemently - but I suspect it was something like smoking a great bong, kicking the back of the seats or writing graffitti.
Anyway, he ordered them off - and the nasty little fuckers refused to go quietly.
One of them (the more dominant/aggressive one) fancied himself as something of a nutter.
He kept mouthing off about how "We ain't doone fookin' OWT!" while his weedy little mate agreed with everything he said.
Eventually, they grudgingly consented to remove themselves from the vehicle, but only because the self-appointed 'looney' had decided to announce to all and sundry (especially the driver) that he would 'bite yer FOOKIN' nose off'.
As the hydraulic doors hissed shut behind them, the midgety one encouraged him all the way.
Then the driver zoomed off down the road. He was so upset by the row that his driving had gone all souped-up and abrupt.
However, that was by no means the last we saw or heard of them.
They chased us all the way down the road to the next stop, where the driver was mad enough to open the door to them again!
They both piled on - and the mad one repeated his threat to bit the driver's 'fookin' nose off'.
Someone sitting towards the back suggested (very quietly) that the driver might like to think about phoning the police.
The driver, meanwhile, just sat and listened to the little fuckers rant on again.
Then he told them to leave.
They left, he shut the doors and started to drive off.
The looney git banged furiously on the side of the bus, then started running after it - and kept it up half-way to Piccadilly Gardens, until the driver managed to lose him in the massive traffic jam that had started to pile up in the rush-hour.
Sunday 5 December was an absolute classic as well.
During the mid-afternoon, I nipped into Sainsburys in Fallowfield to do some shopping.
As I was browsing round the newspaper and magazine section near the front of the store, a massive ding-dong broke out in the queue for the tobacco kiosk.
One studenty-looking girl went up to another one - and slapped her round the face.
Then she kicked her viciously in the shins, pulled her hair and screamed: "You fucking slept with my boyfriend, you bitch!!!!!!!!!"
There followed a short, sharp blur of kicks, slaps, hair-tugs and outraged squeals.
No sign of a security guard, of course, so one of the other shoppers shouted out: "Oi, security! Fight!"
Silence reigned for a second.
Then a third studenty-looking girl emerged from the queue, went up to the first one - and screamed in her face: "That's my best friend you just attacked!!!!!!!!"
The first one stood her ground and replied: "Well, your best friend is a fucking slut - and you shouldn't encourage her, or you're just as bad!!!!!!!"
Still no sign of the security guards.
Finally the first girl ran off to the toilets, where it was rumoured she locked herself in and burst into tears.
Once more, peace reigned at the centre of the commercial universe in Fallowfield.
A couple of years ago, I saw a bloke try to walk out of there with a plasma-screen telly he hadn't paid for.
When the security guards confronted him, he made a run for it, one of them did a rugby tackle on him - and the other one caught the telly.
Whoever said real life was boring?
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