Airport shuttle

Mr Driver emerges from his lair and, after a brief conversation re our respective employment, says, “There’s half an hour to go before we leave, so why don’t I show you round town?” A rather attractive blonde is left standing, but 50 yards later Mr Driver’s antennae tell him that a slightly less attractive blonde/brunette pair (nice boots) is hurrying the pavement with the sole purpose of allowing him to be a gallant at a zebra 10 yards further and allow them to cross. So he waits. One hopes the bus wasn’t GPSed.

GSM attendee on music in Barcelona shuttle: “First Rick Astley and now Video killed the radio star! Barcelona, timewarp trash!” Integrated tourism management would deal with this kind of thing.

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