Why I may not ever use an MP3 player on the bus

There were two young men behind me on the bus chatting away as I was on my way home one evening last week. From the conversation I figured out that the twosome were making their own way home from a day in a training centre for intellectually disabled people.

They spoke about the various jobs they were doing and who among their work colleagues had said this and that. They also discussed an upcoming trip to Wexford or Waterford. Then the conversation (in perfectly annunciated English, with every attention to detail, including all the "-ing" sounds) turned to a philosophical nature:

"What way would you like to die? I mean, exploded or what?"
"I don't know."
"This world is going to end and then be reborn with only the animals left living on it. So which way would you like to die?"
"What would the animals do with the world?"
"The same as us. Eat. Shag. Shit..."
"Mess the place up."
"Yes. There are only three things in life. What are they?"
"Alcohol!"
"Yes. What else?"
"Tobacco!"
"Yes. What else?"
"Hash."
"Say it again."
"Hash."
"Say it again, louder."
"Hash!"
"That's right. Well done"

I didn't miss my stop, thanks for asking. The new MP3 player, I think, will stay in the house a little longer.