samuri.co.uk

Bike: Humuhumu
Distance:31 miles

Commute. Nice. Dark all the way to work. Nice and sunny but a bit chilly on the way home. My arse was hurting so developed a funny riding style. As i passed through Lowton I saw a big gang of lads on the other side of the road. Christ these young lads look stupid. It’s not the shell suits or the tracksuit bottoms tucked in their socks (although it does look ridiculous), that makes them look like fuckwits, but their caps. They deliberately buy hats too small for their heads (I’m assuming this is a troublesome venture, since most of their heads are not exactly stuff ed with brains), but then turn the brim up Norman Wisdom stylee.  If they wren;t so annoying it would be thigh slapping laughable.

Anyway, they all see me and one immediately runs across the road and tries to stand their looking like he’s not up to anything. Obviously being a fuckwit this is like sticking a sign on his head ‘I am up to something’. The remaining lads all get their stolen/mugged phones out and start pointing them at me. Did you even think for one second that this wouldn’t alert me in anyway whatsoever? Jesus they’re thicker than  thought.

So as I get close, the lad nearest me by himself, starts walking forwards and leans in like he’s going to start running. It’s clear to me that he’s going to try to push me off while the other film it. I’ve got a number of choices.

1. Nail it. The dopey fucker will never catch me.
2. Chin the little twat. It’ll make me feel good but it’ll be on 17 phones.
3. Get pushed off. Admittedly this is my last choice, it’s not one I’ll be taking.
4. Tell the gibbon that if he tries pushing me off I’ll break both his arms

I go for a compromise and point at him, make an angry face like this… GRRRR!, and stare at him like a crazy foo’.

He stops and tries to blend in. The incident is over. After all, they’re not looking for people who might fight back, they’re looking for weaklings and feebles. I stare at him all the way past. He’s a coward and a bragard, he’s not going to do anything. I then turn my attention to his mates , some of whom are videoing me, the rest are looking away. Not a hugely succesful activity in their view, which is fine by me.

Also:

Overheard later when I left the ASDA. Two young *ladies* talking to each other. One says how little sleep she had last night. The other tells her, “I didn’t get to bed till half twelve last night and I was back up at 8:30, try that!”, she stated proudly. Only eight hours sleep, how the hell does she manage? Eight hours! If I get that in a week I’ll be happy.

edit: and that makes 118 miles for the week because I didn’t get out once at the weekend. Nowhere near what I wanted to do, bummer. This week isn;t looking much better either, bummer.