EnvironMentalists

Condensation trickled down the bus windows. Heaving commuters jostled with depressed welfare recipients. The bus lurched to dodge a gull, then a tramp digging in a bin.

“You ignore that,” said the old lady. Her companion, a man in his forties, seemed to be hugging himself. His dilapidated suit would once have been an object of pride. He blushed, looked at the filthy, sticky bus floor and mumbled something.

“That’s right. That’s right. That’s absolutely right,” said the old lady. Her hair was grey, flimsy and flicking everywhere. She looked too tired – the tired you get from physical work that you don’t deserve.”I mean…” she searched for something strong, looked wild, furious. “It’s clearly…stupid. Bloody stupid. I mean, who ever heard of it? Who ever heard of it?!”

She looked at her companion, snarling, questioning. Who ever heard of it?

Suddenly, the man looked inspired. He lifted his eyes, glanced around, then lowered his gaze. He saw his shoes and remembered the shopping trip when he bought them. It was a long time ago. “But why would I…how would I…I mean…I have the lathe! The lathe in my room…if we were…hotting up…you know?”

“Well exactly! Your lathe! I mean…what on Earth is all this about…warming? Warming!?” The old lady looked around the bus, looking for a passenger who might provide evidence of a global conspiracy – an intricate web of deception that sought the limitation of society. “How can we be warming?!”

The man looked up, “we can’t…I mean…I’ve got my lathe…”

“Precisely.”