Public Lemmings

Public Lemmings


Surely, the first thing you were taught after being told you could let go of your Mummies hand when you were outside, is that you should look before you cross the road?

After that, if you had non-Jeremy Kyle level parents, they should have even suggested that if there’s a pedestrian crossing within a few feet, then you should use that to cross in safety.

So why, in the name of Holy mouse-eared fuckability, do so many of you braindead cunts run blindly out through the traffic at every opportunity?

I’ve just started commuting into Birmingham city centre, and was expecting to be knocked off and squished by idiot car drivers who were drinking coffee, texting, and shaving their bawbag on their way to and from work… but NO!

The things trying to kill me are big two-legged twats loping off the curb like something out of a fucking 1980s video game!

I’ve ranted on before about Bromsgrove.  There’s a section of road where there are TWO pedestrian crossings within about 30 yards of each other – and what happens?

Lummox-like cabbage-fucks do that ‘just-crossing-the-road-don’t-mind-me-mister’ stupid jog causing everyone to slam their brakes on.

My mate actually hit some stupid bint here as he was filtering on his bike.  Good!  Apparently her shopping bags went up in the air, comedy-style.  And my mate and his bike were totally undamaged.

I had another one only this morning.

I saw her and slowed, she saw me and carried on without a second glance – making me slam the anchors on and screech at her in a voice so high only dogs could hear.

And I bet the dopey-faced fucktard blames ME for the fact she went pottering off accross a damned road!

What’s wrong with you people???

Your parents can’t have dropped you ALL on your heads when you were little, surely?!?


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?!