Spiders, Spiders Everywhere! Plus My Brush With Death!!!

Spiders, Spiders Everywhere! Plus My Brush With Death!!!

Have spiders got some sort of collective vendetta against just me at the moment – or is it everyone?

There aren’t all that many in the rest of the house, but every time I look up in my bedroom, Mini-Spider Hit Squad is moving into position surrounding me!

OK, they’re hardly going to eat me in my sleep, but I can’t say I’m too excited at the prospect of eating THEM in MY sleep, either!

So 6 had to die yesterday, and 4 the day before that.  And this morning another bugger was there!

But I suspect these are just the advance party.

Bigger beasties are lurking in the doorways…

I came home last week to find a medium-sized spiddy sat in the middle of his web – naked, no less!!!  AND it was blocking off the entire front door to my home!

What the fuck did he think he was up to???

Luckily, I hadn’t taken my bike gloves off at the time, so a swift right cross let him know his name wasn’t down, and he wasn’t coming in.

I think after 3 days of that, he either ended up in Spider Infirmary, or my cunning change to a back-handed knuckle strike felled the arsehole arachnid.

But lo and behold, a Morning Spiddy appeared for attack, covering the door so when I stepped out to ready my bike, I’d be covered in web like in one of those old Tarzan movies!

Luckily the spider never managed to sink his fangs into me, as I always escaped before it had chance but this morning was close!

Spiky hair is a bastard for collecting webs, too!

Then, as I rode my bike up the driveway towards the road, elated to be escaping my home without being mummified and having my juices sucked from me (and not in the good way that women can do), they had one last-ditch attempt!

Right at the top of the driveway, to my horror I spotted another Tarzan-catcher web, cunningly using an overhanging Holly Tree to cover my escape route.

And Harry The Hairy Spider was home!

I tried moving as far to my right as I could, but the left mirror sliced through the bottom support strand of the web as I rode past.

This caused the whole Spider-Web combo to swing around in a huge arc, disappearing from my field of view around the side of my helmet.  Last known trajectory: the left side of the escaping biker.

Staring straight ahead lest I see hairy legs clinging to my visor, I opened the throttle and kept it open, ignoring the crawling/biting feelings on my poor exposed neck and from within my leathers.

If I’m lucky, the wee fucker is roadkill somewhere between my house and my workplace.

If I’m unlucky, he’ll be waiting for me back at home with a New Improved Web possibly promoted by Barry Scott of Cilit Bang fame.

If I’m REALLY unlucky, he’s to my left right now, hiding in the pile of leathers, waiting to jump on me when I next touch them, so that I scream like a girl and all the women in the office laugh at me

I -ing hate spiders!

Anti-Wasp Tactics 2012

Anti-Wasp Tactics 2012

[This is a yearly re-post to highlight my ongoing battle]

I’ve told in a previous blog about how I had the shit stung out of me by several wasps in the past, and since then I’ve waged war on the black and yellow bastards! (oo-err – that sounds racist!)

This morning, after actually getting some decent sleep for once, I was suddenly wide-the-fuck-awake in bed. My clock read 05:30.  Son of a biscuit!!!!

After working up a rage over my bodies betrayal, I lay there in the dawn silence and heard the noise which had obviously awoken me.

*BzzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzz…. BZZZZZZZZzzz… zzzz… ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

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A fucking wasp!!!  I swear the little shit had some kind of Wasp Megaphone, too!

The small window was open a fraction, and like some kind of little buzzy Ninja assassin, Cunto The Wasp had crept inside to sting me to death as I slept!

Luckily, the net curtain had foiled his initial attack, and the little runt was bouncing around between the window and the netting.

With a bloodcurdling roar, I tore open the curtains, intent on crushing his head like a miniature grapefruit… only to see him successfully negotiate the netting and fly free into my bedroom sanctuary!

My flesh crawled as he flew straight at my face, my hair stood on end, and I uttered a kind of “Gnnn-argunk!!” sound as I flapped wildly and ducked and dived like Prince Naseem Hamed in his prime fighting days!

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Jumping from my bed, I went all chameleon – with one eye tracking Cunto, and the other searching for a suitable Squishing Weapon. Then I realised I was naked!

Now, I’ve survived wasp attacks before – having been stung on my back, my legs… even my face.  They don’t hurt as much as people like to have you believe (unless you go into anaphylactic shock like some girly poof – QUITTER!!!).

But the thought of that little leaky barb jabbing into the side-wall of my Japs-Eye, or, heaven forbid, emptying his load deep into my scrotum – was not something I EVER wanted to experience!

I focused my own Magical Ninja Powers, and skilfully Boshi-Kenned the nasty bugger back at the window, where I met his attempt to rise again with a stout troll ornament and cracked his thorax like a dropped M&M.

Well, ok – maybe I flapped my hands around like I was signing the commentary to a deaf audience – but it still had the same end result.

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Mission accomplished.

My extensive knowledge of the enemy has taught me that wasps emit a distress pheromone which could attract others to his corpse, so I closed the window and gave the carcass a quick “AHHHHHHH!!!!!!” to show it who was the Daddy.

I’m sure this conflict will be repeated over the coming months, as happens every Summer. What can I do?

Is there some substance the little buzzy buggers hate that I could smear around the sides of an open window and they wouldn’t want to get past?  Fire is tempting, but not a practical option.

There must be a way. The battle lines are drawn, and I need to prepare my tactics to ensure my survival!

I shall fight them on the window ledges!!!!

http://afeatheradrift.files.wordpress.com/2011/03/wasp.jpg

Spy Didn’t Padlock Himself Into Bag Shocker!!!

Spy Didn’t Padlock Himself Into Bag Shocker!!!

I made the mistake of switching the 1 O’Clock News on today.  The lead story?

An inquest has found that an MI6 operative might not have padlocked himself inside a sports bag in his own bathtub.

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Seriously.

This is wrong on soooooo many levels, that whilst I calm myself and stop making spakka noises at the TV, I shall give you a link to the full story:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-17865736

MI6 officer inquest shown bag closure attempts

Footage of separate attempts by two experts to lock themselves into a bag has been shown at the inquest into the death of MI6 officer Gareth Williams.

The body of Mr Williams, 31, from Anglesey, was found in a holdall in the bath of his London flat in August 2010.

William MacKay, who said his military career made him adept at working in confined spaces, struggled to shut the bag and he caused damage to the zip.

Peter Faulding said it was very awkward and the “temperature rose fast”.

Mr MacKay told the inquest – which is trying to establish whether Mr Williams was locked in the bag by another person or did it himself – that locking the bag was a skill that would have required training but that once a person had done it, they could not get out.

He added: “There are people around who can do amazing things and Mr Williams may well have been one of those persons.”

But the next expert witness, Mr Faulding, said that he had tried and failed to lock the bag from inside 300 times – and added that he was sure it could not be done.

And so on…

Right.  First off are they trying to say that someone went all David Blane and put a holdall in the bathtub, climbed into it, padlocked it, and then tried to Houdini their way out?  Or that they climbed inside for some very bizarre emo suicide attempt?  And wouldn’t using a hammer be easier if it was the latter?

Secondly, how the fuck is this the primary news story today?!  Note that this actually happened in 2010!  This is just the Government/Judicial system spending millions to find out, two years later, whether it’s possible that someone else may have been involved.  I could have saved them all time and money by saying OF COURSE SOMEBODY ELSE WAS PROBABLY INVOLVED!!!

*Feel free to send me a message through WordPress if you need an Expert Witness for any similar cases – I offer discount rates for block bookings.*

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And then, THEN we get to the core of this!  This was an MI6 operative – or a Spy in laymans terms.  So essentially this is another ‘Spy Gets Murdered’ shocker story!  A bit like a ‘Soldier Gets Shot At’ shocker, or ‘Government Are Dumbass Cunts Who Rip You Off Yet Again’ shocker.

Anybody who’s ever watched James Bond or even Austin Powers will be aware that spies kill each other.  It’s sort-of what they do.

Surely, the first person who found this mans body padlocked inside a bag in his bath immediately thought “Shit, someone’s murdered Agent Gaz!”, rather than “Oh wow!  Gareth seems to have accidentally killed himself by climbing inside a holdall and padlocking it!”?

Am I missing something here or has every other cunt gone mental whilst I wasn’t looking???

BONUS FLIDDISHNESS:  As an aside, the weather expert on this same news programme has just confirmed that “April has been a very wet month”.  Fucking genius!!!

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Grand National And Hurr Pains

Grand National And Hurr Pains

Saturday was Grand National day.

For those that don’t know, this is a huge horse race watched by everyone in the UK, and everyone takes this one day out of the year to place a bet on their chosen horse, even if they’d never dream of betting on anything any other time.

The last few years I’ve done rather well, and so for this year we arranged to go out to the pub and celebrate things properly with a daytime drinking session.

The drinking went well – the ‘picking a winner’ bit not so well this year.  I think from our £30 stake on various horses, we won back £4.50 for the one donkey we didn’t bet on.

I know at least one horse ‘bought the farm’ (Synchronised?), and everyone will go on about how barbaric the sport is etc, and they can all go shove their heads up a dead badgers ass.  If you don’t like it, you don’t have to watch or support it.

I’m pretty sure the horse that threw it’s rider before the start was one of the dead.  Admittedly, they SHOULD have pulled the horse (who went galavanting off around half the course on its own) – but then I had money on the twat, so wouldn’t have wanted that!  The other that died – According To Pete, or something – looked like a bloody Shetland Pony, so that doesn’t really susprise me that he couldn’t jump anything over 19″ high.

We got an early night after topping off the beer with a customary Donna Kebab, but then during the night I woke up and everything started to feel a bit Wrong.

I got some antacids down me to calm the burning in my stomach, and then about 10 pints of kebab came out of my toothless end.

Just as the torrent was calming, another 10 pints of kebab came out the speaking end.

I’m not sick very often, and will fight any feelings of sickness like a Mo Fo, but I was pretty much gone, here.

Being me, even in the midst of this highly violent bout of vomiting, I still managed to say “I sound like the Devil” in an Alan Partridge style!  This almost amused my Fiancee who by now thought I was dying.

The weird thing is that after that I felt ok.  I mean, today I can feel what I call ‘Hurr Pains’ – from all the muscles used when your body convulses as it retches – but I was up in the morning and out on the bike with some mates.

I even managed to eat a bacon sammich from the bikers cafe in Bridgnorth with no ill effects.

Will I ever be able to eat another Donna Kebab, though…?

Hide The Fags!

Hide The Fags!

No, I’m not calling for us all to push our gay brothers and sisters back in the closet – I’m talking about the recent trend where shops have to hide their cigarettes.

I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve been in a shop, buying porn, fisting mittens, alcohol and chilli sauce, when I’ve suddenly seen the display of cigarettes and thought “Wow!  I really should get some cigarettes and smoke the whole lot tonight, too!”

Oh… hang on… Yeah, that’s right – that has NEVER happened.

The chances are, when you buy a pack of cigarettes from a shop, it’s because you SMOKE.

If you’re not a smoker, you’re hardly likely to be tempted by the joyous colour markings (or maybe the picture of cancer-riddled infant testicles) on a packet of Marlboro or Silk Cut.  “Well, I came in for a Lottery ticket, but now I’ve seen THESE on display I realise if I DO win, then I’ll be able to afford to buy fucking cigarettes – so give me a box of 200!”

I’m probably in what would be considered the highest risk category of being persuaded to buy cigarettes – because I ONLY smoke when I WANT to smoke.  20 in a night or none for 6 months – it doesn’t bother me.  I know for a fact that I won’t buy them just because I can see them on the counter!  Do none of you fuckers understand that I CAN make the choice to smoke or not, without killing myself???

For fucks sake will you retarded do-gooder mongs stop trying to hold everyones hands as if they can’t make up their own minds!!!

It’s no wonder nobody these days will take responsibility for their own actions when the whole of fucking society is telling us we don’t have free will, and so they’ll have to guide us to do what they think is right.

This week.

Next week it will probably be alcohol… or ‘fun’ in general.

Simoncelli Fatal Moto GP Crash – RIP Sideshow Bob

Simoncelli Fatal Moto GP Crash – RIP Sideshow Bob

I woke up late today, having missed the Moto GP race from Malaysia which was screened in the early hours of this morning, and logging onto Facebook was shocked to the core to see a lot of statuses saying that 24 year old Italian racer Marco Simoncelli was dead.

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Not fully wanting to believe it, I clicked on a link to the video.  If you haven’t seen the one doing the rounds, it shows Colin Edwards and Valentino Rossi battling it out.  They come around a right-hander, and just before the exit you see Simoncelli come into shot, hanging off to the right of his bike, obviously in big trouble, and he comes straight across from the left in front of Rossi and Edwards.

You see Edwards brake and try his best to tighten his line, but there’s no chance.  He hits Simoncelli directly in the back just before Rossi, alongside him, also hits him in the head…

It was quite similar to the crash which claimed the life of Shoya Tomizawa in Moto 2 last year.

I’m gutted.

This year I’ve grown to really like Simoncelli, aka Sideshow Bob.  He’s exactly the sort of character that Moto GP needed in an otherwise fairly crap year.  I was fully behind him when he had what was blatantly a ‘racing incident’ with Pedrosa, after which a few of the top riders condemned Simoncelli’s riding style.  For what?  Overtaking?  Racing?  Making the sport exciting again???

I think with him becoming the underdog after this it really sealed it for me – he was a new favourite!

And he was really funny in interviews (not just because of his ridiculously huge hair) – telling Lorenzo after he’d had a whinge that he might have to be arrested.

https://i2.wp.com/www.speedzilla.com/forums/attachments/street-track/26002d1273237230-simoncelli-opens-up-not-afraid-offend-simocelli_lupo_mannaro.jpg

He also had one of those distinctive riding styles that was instantly recognisable.  He was a big lad, so against all the other jockey-sized riders it was knees and elbows all over the place – and of course he was FAST!

Without a doubt he’d have been a championship winner.

It’s a very sad day for the sport.  It’s strange how much it’s hit me, considering I don’t really know him.

My thoughts go out to his friends and family – and also to Edwards and Rossi.  I hope they can find peace with themselves through the tragedy.

I’ll miss watching you, Sideshow Bob – ride free, dude!

https://i1.wp.com/www.lean-angles.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/Simoncelli-signs-deal.jpg

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EDIT RE FATAL CRASH VIDEO

As mentioned, the first I knew was a Facebook status and a link to the video of the accident.

The video is… a crash video.  Sure, it’s shocking because you know someone lost their life, and being the one to hit them you can bet that Colin Edwards and Valentino Rossi are having a very tough time of it.

A lot of people are instantly getting the footage banned when it shows up (hence me not bothering to try and link to it here) saying it’s disrespectful etc… but why?  There’s no disrespect in watching a great riders final moments, and I’m glad I got to see it, because otherwise I wouldn’t believe it – I just wouldn’t know all the facts.  Watch the video and you can see how tragic it was, and how unavoidable.  It was Simoncellis skill at being able to save the lowside on his knee  that took him back across the track, whereas a less skilled rider would have just been in the gravel… and ironically, safe.

If you don’t want to watch it – don’t.  But don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t be able to see.  Censorship is NEVER a good thing.  This happened in front of millions, and if you think your crusade to stop anyone seeing it will work you’re deluding yourself.  Just don’t watch it.  It’s that simple.

I will watch it again, and I’ll feel the loss just as much.  Right now I’m raising a glass to Marco Simoncelli and toasting a great racer.

Rough Sex Buggy Style!!!

Rough Sex Buggy Style!!!

So, you think you’ve had some rough sex in your time, do you?

Felt like you’ve fucked a cheesegrater so hard that it snapped your back?

Still nothing on these little blighters, I’m afraid:

Bizarre Gender-Bender Bugs Baffle Scientists
By Charles Q. Choi
Special to LiveScience

https://i2.wp.com/www.kretamagazin.hu/files/imagecache/kep_320x180/images/tartalom_kep/20070922-afrocimex-constrictus.jpg

Scientists have discovered a real gender-bender of a bug, a species in which most females impersonate males.

Past research had already revealed the male bugs possessed fake female genitalia.

“We ended up uncovering a hotbed of deception,” said evolutionary biologist Klaus Reinhardt at the University of Sheffield in England. “Nothing like this exists anywhere else in the animal kingdom.”

Reinhardt and his colleagues investigated remote and dangerous bat caves in East Africa for the bloodsucking African bat bug (Afrocimex constrictus), a close relative of the bed bug. The bats were reportedly hosts for Ebola and other lethal viruses.

“We had to work in containment suits with full-faced respirators in sweltering temperatures for hours at end,” Reinhardt said. Sex among bat bugs (as with bed bugs) is violent.

During copulation, males of these species pierce the abdomens of their mates with their genitals and ejaculate directly into their blood.

The researchers originally set out to investigate bat bugs in the hopes of shedding light on “one of nature’s strangest phenomena — why males had female genitalia,” Reinhardt said.

Unlike bed bugs, male African bat bugs have bogus female genitals—a fact the scientists freely call “bizarre.” Past research found they mate with each other as well as with females. Although the sham genitals are convincingly intricate, they do not have a covering over them as real female genitals do.

Surprisingly, the scientists have now discovered that female African bat bugs practiced gender-bending also by impersonating males. Only one out of six females possessed conventional female genitals, while the rest had genitals resembling the fakes seen on males.

By masquerading as males, females enjoy less sexual attention. Given that sex leads to wounding in these bugs, Reinhardt and his colleagues suggest avoiding the trauma of sex makes sense. Indeed, the researchers discovered females that impersonated males had far less fewer than more conventional females.

As to why any females still retain conventional genitalia given the wounds they accrue—”no idea,” Reinhardt told LiveScience. Normal females might lay more eggs, “but in order to address this question you would need controlled lab studies, and we have not yet succeeded in breeding these animals.”

It also remains a mystery as to why males possess sham female genitals. Scientists think the males might genitally stab any adult bat bug, so one conjecture as to why males evolved bogus female genitals involves guiding stabs to relatively safe parts of the anatomy.

“Our results suggest that the battle of the sexes is a very powerful evolutionary force which can result in very bizarre adaptations,” Reinhardt said.

Reinhardt and his colleagues will detail their findings in a forthcoming issue of the journal American Naturalist.

Spiders, Spiders Everywhere! Plus My Brush With Death!!!

Spiders, Spiders Everywhere! Plus My Brush With Death!!!

Have spiders got some sort of collective vendetta against just me at the moment – or is it everyone?

There aren’t all that many in the rest of the house, but every time I look up in my bedroom, Mini-Spider Hit Squad is moving into position surrounding me!

OK, they’re hardly going to eat me in my sleep, but I can’t say I’m too excited at the prospect of eating THEM in MY sleep, either!

So 6 had to die yesterday, and 4 the day before that.  And this morning another bugger was there!

But I suspect these are just the advance party.

Bigger beasties are lurking in the doorways…

I came home last week to find a medium-sized spiddy sat in the middle of his web – naked, no less!!!  AND it was blocking off the entire front door to my home!

What the fuck did he think he was up to???

Luckily, I hadn’t taken my bike gloves off at the time, so a swift right cross let him know his name wasn’t down, and he wasn’t coming in.

I think after 3 days of that, he either ended up in Spider Infirmary, or my cunning change to a back-handed knuckle strike felled the arsehole arachnid.

But lo and behold, a Morning Spiddy appeared for attack, covering the door so when I stepped out to ready my bike, I’d be covered in web like in one of those old Tarzan movies!

Luckily the spider never managed to sink his fangs into me, as I always escaped before it had chance but this morning was close!

Spiky hair is a bastard for collecting webs, too!

Then, as I rode my bike up the driveway towards the road, elated to be escaping my home without being mummified and having my juices sucked from me (and not in the good way that women can do), they had one last-ditch attempt!

Right at the top of the driveway, to my horror I spotted another Tarzan-catcher web, cunningly using an overhanging Holly Tree to cover my escape route.

And Harry The Hairy Spider was home!

I tried moving as far to my right as I could, but the left mirror sliced through the bottom support strand of the web as I rode past.

This caused the whole Spider-Web combo to swing around in a huge arc, disappearing from my field of view around the side of my helmet.  Last known trajectory: the left side of the escaping biker.

Staring straight ahead lest I see hairy legs clinging to my visor, I opened the throttle and kept it open, ignoring the crawling/biting feelings on my poor exposed neck and from within my leathers.

If I’m lucky, the wee fucker is roadkill somewhere between my house and my workplace.

If I’m unlucky, he’ll be waiting for me back at home with a New Improved Web possibly promoted by Barry Scott of Cilit Bang fame.

If I’m REALLY unlucky, he’s to my left right now, hiding in the pile of leathers, waiting to jump on me when I next touch them, so that I scream like a girl and all the women in the office laugh at me

I -ing hate spiders!

How To Tear Out A Mans Throat

How To Tear Out A Mans Throat

Back when I was a young whipper-snapper at the early stages of my journey into the Martial Arts, one of the first ‘essential’ moves I felt I needed in my arsenal was to be able to rip the throat out of my victim.

This probably had as much to do with watching Patrick Swayze in the film ‘Road House’ than it did with the teachings and philosophies of Shotokan Karate.

It did switch me on to the fact that there are certain moves you can do which will end a fight very quickly.  Luckily I never had the opportunity to tear anyone’s throat out – which may have been hard to explain away as ‘reasonable force’.

The next move I practiced lots, as I got into what I call Destruction Techniques, was to grab the opponents hair, yanking their head back, and then slamming your fist down like a hammer onto their upturned face.  A proper power technique – which unfortunately means it will fail most of the time unless you’re fighting a smaller and weaker opponent.  I had one opportunity to try it in a real fight, and it failed as I couldn’t pull their head back enough ready for the smash.

I think it was probably this ‘real world’ experience that took me to the next level.  I wanted stuff that worked.

Not only that, I wanted stuff that worked against stronger people.  Stuff that worked when I was injured or losing, or just had one chance and one single shot.

Unsurprisingly, here started the time when I drifted into Muay Thai kickboxing and Ninjitsu (and later still, Russian Systema).  Both arts have techniques tried and tested to work, and don’t shroud it all in useless bullshit that you need to spend sixteen years in a horse-riding stance to learn.

Muay Thai taught me how utterly devastating a strike from an elbow can be.  I learnt how to use my knees to full power to cripple someone in a single and often invisible strike.

Ninjutsu opened my mind to body mechanics and how you can use the movements of an opponents own body against him.

My go-to move became the now well-known strike with the heel of your palm to the nose of your opponent.  Except I knew that you don’t do that – you strike the pressure point just below the nose upwards at 45 degrees.  Either that or the Tiger Claw strike using your foreknuckles to the throat, knee, nose etc…

Then I learnt the joys of incapacitating someone by using strikes that were unexpected and not to the obvious places – the sword kick (sweeping motion utilising the edge of modern footwear to their inner shin), stupidly easy joint manipulations to escape any hold, using misdirection so they don’t even know how they got hit or what by.  Kino Mutai – the art of biting.  How to make someone injure themselves when they try to strike you.  The list is endless and I’m still learning.

The really surprising thing is how easy all this stuff is.  To do and to learn.  And that’s what also makes it so scary – to think someone half your size may also know this stuff does a great job of persuading you not to go around starting fights!

In short, I know a lot of nasty ways to take someone out or even kill them, and whilst I’ll still always prefer to lose face and walk away from a fight (unless I genuinely can’t avoid it), there will always be a little part of me wondering… what if…

That’s the part of me that will end up in jail forever, though.

Road Kill

Road Kill

I’ve hit a few fluffy things on the roads.

There are the inevitable birds which exploded against my helmet or gloves in a shower of feathers, and the rather less common bat who splattered himself over my visor directly in front of my right eyeball (very nearly causing me to jump right off the bike in shock).

Then there was Fluffykins – an unknown cat/smalldog sized lump of squish that I hit one dark Winter night, resulting in the fascinating stench of dead ‘something’ guts cooking on my exahust downpipes for the next few miles.

Considering that’s in easily over 300,000 miles of bike travel (not to mention the few thousand I’ve racked up in the car), that makes my contribution to the UK’s road kill figures rather insignificant.

Which prompts me to wonder, who the Hell is it who’s splattering the entire wildlife population of the Midlands on a nightly basis?

Every morning on my commute I’m riding past the broken and splayed carcasses of everything from badgers, lumpjack deer and unidentifiable large fluffy Things (that in all honesty scare me slightly with their existence), and the numbers of them stagger me!

Are there any left running around out there?  More to the point, how -ing many were out there in the first place?!

And where the Hell do the carcasses go to?  Is there a special Road Kill Recovery Unit, or… is someone eating them?!