Fuck the what? 

It’s been a while since I’ve posted something, so I thought I’d write a nice, long observation on a hilarious life event. 

Nah. 

Instead here’s a photo of something that literally stopped me in my tracks. 

 Seriously? 

Apparently cyclists can only read words in the order they are presented. 

Finest its at idiocy is this. 

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Chatty chatty bang bang! 

Just coasting on the back of my last post; the woman on the exercise bike next to me is having a full blown, animated conversation on her phone. She’s panting heavily which I suppose is… sexy? 

Unlike me,  she’s pedalling very fast and sweating lots. 

Also unlike me –  who is able to compose this post whilst pedalling  – she’s lacking the appropriate concentration necessary to multitask and has missed the pedals twice,  nearly giving herself some complimentary handlebar dentistry. 

Heavy breathing? Sexy. 

Heavy bleeding? Not as much. 

Period. 

Near Miss

This morning, whilst walking to the office, my wife and I saw a man cross the road in front of a cyclist.

To be honest, he had plenty of time to cross the road before she reached him, but I think he knew she was coming and had decided to walk so painfully slow that the cyclist had to swerve, barely missing him.

Although it could never be proved, we all knew he was trying to demonstrate it was his right of way (which it wasn’t); forcing her to slow down (which she didn’t).

As she whizzed by he looked up and shouted “Fuck off!”

Without hesitation she replied “Charming!”

London…the friendliest city in the world.

Bike Near Miss

Cycle-path-ic tendencies

While walking to the office this morning, after the nightmare train journey into London, I heard a distinct “Fucking idiot!” from the other side of the busy road.

Of course my attention was drawn to it straight away and I saw the aftermath of a man who had clearly stepped out in front of a cyclist without looking.

The cyclist was stood there with his bike between his legs; front wheel on the floor and the back wheel up behind his back.  It was clear he’d slammed on the brakes causing the bike to stop suddenly, and him a little less suddenly.

He’d then obviously performed that awkward stumbling forward like a man with 50lb testicles which had resulted in the bike riding up behind him.

The man who had stepped out in front of him had chosen to continue walking; ignoring the chaos and carnage he’d left behind.

The cyclist loudly shouted something at him as he walked away, but I didn’t hear much of what he said due to the noise of the traffic.  I did pick out the words ‘prick’ and ‘fucking’, so I suspect it wasn’t, “please be careful when stepping out into the road, I’d hate for you to be injured”.

The cyclist hopped back onto his bike and cycled away, turning a corner out of view.

The man was going the same way as me, but on the other side of the road and before long we came to another junction in the road.  It was at this point the cyclist came out from the side road, pulled up next to him and made SURE the man had clearly understood what a “complete fucking prick” he was.

He didn’t argue it.

He would’ve lost.

bike rage

Bike curious…

Here’s something I’ve noticed.

Cyclists have this ‘more sophisticated than thou’ air about them whenever they’re trussed up in all that specialist skin tight garb. I see them pull up silently on their overpriced bikes, not looking around at anyone, but secretly judging everyone for not being as green and as cool as them.

And regarding those bikes, has anyone else noticed that these things seem to get thinner and thinner the more expensive they get? Ive heard the phrase ‘less is more’, but this is ridiculous. A friend of mine raves about bikes and showed me his £600 ‘baby’ that looked like it was fashioned from un-bent paper clips and bottle tops. The seat resembled a giraffe’s head, and was most likely less comfortable

Anyway, i do have to say that when I see these streamlined sissies all spandex’d up like ballet dancers with their special bike shoes and their special bike leggings, complete with a helmet that looks like a Klingon’s forehead ridge, I can’t help but admit they look the part; all aerodynamic and ‘whooshy’.

But….and this is what prompted me to blog this morning….the moment they’ve locked up their overpriced coat hangers and walked away to join the rest of society, don’t they look fucking ridiculous? Seriously.

The guy on the train platform this morning had regular shorts on with those tight spandex leggings underneath, all feeding into the most girly shoes I’d ever seen. It looked like his mum had dressed him, in the dark, whilst drunk.

With her feet.

And, as he stood there looking like a ninja morris dancer being brutally judged by me in my ‘regular’ clothes, I couldn’t help but think that the smug bastard was warmer than me.