Young Poshies in New Minis

Around where I have my humble abode there is a lot of wealthy people who live in very large houses. Just about every Person in a Car that passes me is driving a Large Off-Road 4x4 Massivemobile. These are usually the parents of my worse road-using nightmare, Young Poshies in New Minis.


These over-privliaged spanner bags are given these cars by their parents as a first car present. FACT. These wang-handles have no idea how to behave outside of their own precious little world, a world that has revolved around them and their world like some sort of large globe like planet (the world) with a complete ego-centric (them) as it's pivot point. I think my point is clear.


I will now share with you an example of how they view some of the other people that come into their empire of one, their starring story with them as star and everyone else bit players in their wonderful story, where they are like the youthful twots I see in adverts for phones and perfume and shit, living incredibly fulfilling and adventurous lifestyles, and riding around like someone in the Italian Job.


It was a very very very foggy day, and droplets of water were hanging in the air like fog making everything hard to see and fogged up. As I made my unmerry way down Winsley Hill on my way to work I hit a huge traffic jam that stretched all the way from where I was, to the end of it about a mile away at some traffic lights on the A36ofdeath.
"Wow, this is one big queue," I thought.
"You should really try and go around it."
"Good idea, I will," I replied.
So as the traffic was stationary I hopped my way past it and went further down the hill.


Then the People in Cars started to move and so I tucked back in with the flow and rolled along with it. Then it came to a stop again. Traffic often does this I have observed. Then traffic did something that it doesn't usually do to me unless it is really peeved with me, it started talking.


"Do you f*cking want me to run you over?" it shouted in a hideously posh spiteful tone. I turned slowly around and behind me in a bright red New Mini (one of those really spazzy ones with the Union Flag on the top), an angry posh face was glaring at me from the place were it was positioned on an angry posh head on an angry posh body.


"I am going to hit you if you stay in front of me! Get out of MY F*CKING WAY!" it impotently screamed.


I looked about me. The gloomy fog made the gloomy scene look quite gloomy I thought, as I looked at the totally unmoving line of People in Cars stretched off down the hill into the gloom. 


The New Mini had its engine revved, menacingly.


The queue was going nowhere. Was this person really going to kill me for the sake of ten feet of road?


Yes, yes they probably would, because it was their road you see, and I, like the insane Bicycle riding menace that I am, had strayed inconveniently into the path of their birth-right of getting-the-better-of-everyone-and-not-letting-Plebs-get-in-your-way.


"GO ON! MOVE YOURSELF AND THAT STUPID F*CKING BIKE OUT OF MY WAY, YOU STUPID F*CKING MORON!"


I did what they asked and rode off, pass the unmoving snake of metal, down the hill and off to the canal path, leaving them to their misery and frustration.