The time is ticking on,
The passengers rustle and bustle,
The late-night hustle is winding down,
In his box he makes no sound.
There he sits, poised and ready,
A ticket machine in hand,
For those that missed the conductor,
He’s always in demand.
They queue up for his gains,
Without it no exit they have,
The gated gates where heaven waits
A ticket takes for “thems the breaks”.
The punters don’t appreciate
What Johnny does for them.
The abuse he gets for helping,
A champion among men.
No parade is held for him,
No day to cheer and smile.
A lone warrior with a barrier,
Our humble, faithful terrier.
8 comments on “The Ballad of Johnny Bobbins”
Poor old Johnny Bobbins, selling his stupid tickets. I hate him and I love him all at once.
Johnny Bobbins is a terrible human being, who has done nothing to deserve a parade or any other form of celebratory event.
I might write a strongly worded letter to my MP on the matter.
Good day sir.
Your hated towards this poor man could power half a dozen of those wind farms you love so very much.
In fairness, Johnny Bobbins always hated Kev as well. Whenever Kev had to go get a ticket from him he’d charge a penalty fare and write “dickhead” on the ticket.
In the beginning I refused to take sides. Kev took it to unnecessary levels when he showed up at his 20th wedding anniversary, dressed as a policeman, and told him his parents had died in a freak yachting accident.
I don’t know if that was personal. Kev did that to a lot of people.
It was when he did it to me a third time that I started to think he had a problem.
It’s how he shows you he cares. I heard that Sarah gets it most days.
Wheeeeeeeeeeey! (what?)