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    You Just Sit on Your Butt and Turn the Wheel
    Unavailable
    You Just Sit on Your Butt and Turn the Wheel
    Unavailable
    You Just Sit on Your Butt and Turn the Wheel
    Ebook142 pages1 hour

    You Just Sit on Your Butt and Turn the Wheel

    By Frankie Lassut

    ()

    Currently unavailable

    Currently unavailable

    About this ebook

    Bus driving. A bit of glam job transporting people into the city and back home again. Driving onto some of the housing estates at night; scary. Having eggs or bricks thrown at you, when you’re trying to provide a service for people. Hating the job. Switching off for eight hours when you’re on shift. It’s no bed of roses no pleasure cruise.
    But, not everyone’s Frankie. Simply the greatest all-round bus driver in two halves i.e. that best has ever been and that best that will ever be. The all-round bit doesn’t mean that he’s fat!
    The best that will ever be doesn’t leave any room for anyone else to be the best?
    That’s correct. So, you can apply for the job and if you get it; don’t try and match him. It would be easier for you to hit the moon with a bow and arrow.
    Or ...
    You can’t train someone to be the greatest.
    You can’t train someone to be the best.
    You can’t train someone to be the finest, ever.
    You can just show them what to do and maybe after an initial struggle; they shine with Divine light.
    This is the story of the greatest bus driver ever to drive the streets of Coventry, and what’s more, there will never be another of God-like status, here, or anywhere else.
    He shines divine light and other drivers are like mere candles in comparison.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherFrankie Lassut
    Release dateSep 9, 2018
    ISBN9781370961184
    Unavailable
    You Just Sit on Your Butt and Turn the Wheel
    Author

    Frankie Lassut

    I am the one being shaved; the other one Nim, is is a looney bin now!I went to see a psychic years ago who ended up as my girlfriend; she didn’t see that one coming! But she was extremely honoured. However it ended badly i.e. it rained heavily as I buried her body and I got soaked. No! You don’t really want to hear about it, it’s depressing; I was joking about the burial. She told me that I was to uncover a talent I had ... Well, another psychic told me that as the first one was dead; I was lying when I said I was lying. Nothing happened for quite a while. Suddenly I realised I needed a ‘job’ quite badly as I was beginning to drink halves. No, not a boob ‘job’! I went for the cheap option i.e. the surgeon gave some socks to shove up my jumper when I go out. I got a ‘job’ (have you got boobs on your mind?) because someone told me that bus-driving was easy because you just sit on your butt and turn the wheel. She was about six, a wise woman ... that’s called an oxymoron. Fantastic! I thought get the job and in a couple of days I’d be driving all the nice passengers around and about seeing all the sights for a fraction of the cost of a tour bus; and we’d have a roof in case it rained. Easy! First of all though there was the training; and I entered hell.I was born in Cumbria in a little ex-iron ore mining town called Millom. It was only small, a one- horse town; the horse was called Peg. It had a pedigree name too, but I can’t remember it at the moment: Peggy Suss? However, I got fed up and left as I was the only man in a town full of women and they were all lesbys; I’ve always been lucky. I went to Blackpool and attended the photographic college. I then moved to Coventry and met the psychic who would tell me what was going to happen. I could say now that the rest is history. Well it is, but obviously not history as that’s all made up anyway. Then I got the job bus-driving, which as I said is easy ‘you just sit on your butt and turn the wheel’. The bus station management weren’t pleased that she had said that though, so she was tried and sent to Guantanamo Bay; they have a section for young kids who are bad to the bone.The job was so mad that I thought it would be a good idea to write out some posters and stick them all on the wall of the bus station. The other drivers enjoyed them, but the management tore them down, the badstars (that’s an anagram of astards +B). I carried on and ended up with a manuscript for a book, which, by the way is ‘brilliant’. The management didn’t like it, but bollocks to them.I couldn’t stop writing after that episode and I’ve been writing ever since, mostly cheques to people, such as the mortgage people and the gas board etc. I am so brilliant that I’ve lost all my friends because I wrote about them in my style which I believe is called Bizzaro. My inner being is a bit of a crazy horse, because whatever I write it has to be in that style, even the horror. It just goes that way. ‘Ordinary’ writing to me is like lemonade minus the bubbles ... I can’t bring myself to do it; but thank God I can still bring myself off. I need a selfie stick as I do that because the close focus on the phone won’t do it; how else am I going to post them on the Dark Web?Writing is like a drug. When I was writing my Millom book, the pictures that flashed into my head were so funny to me that I laughed myself into hernia-ville; my stomach tore. I got injured writing.You see, hernia-ville, a retirement home for people with stomach hernias; no comedians are booked to appear at that place.So, my writing is brilliant, so read the bloody stuff!I have actually suffered for my art. I won’t go to hospital to get it fixed because, well, I’ve written about that friggin place too.All that and now I’m an international bestselling author. I’m the only author in this world who has sold books on Mars (eat your heart out Tony Robbins), so I can say with certainty that Martians have fabulous senses of humour.What a profile!

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