Premier Inn Holiday Story

Holy shit right, the fire alarm went off last night at the Premier Inn where we're staying at 1 in the morning and we had to go outside in a fucking hurricane and the guddam hotel didn't burn down it was a false alarm. Before going outside I rushed to my two teenage son's room and one of the enormolunks was still in bed! We all went back inside after half an hour in the pissing rain and hellstorm and then then an hour and a half later the cocking alarm goes off again and NO ONE in the whole hotel gets up except for me like a effin chump that I am. Then it goes of a third time! I brought all my emergency gear and torches and penknives and stuff I was in my element.
Having a fucking AWESOME holiday, and it's FREE cos of Premier Inn's stupid good night sleep promise. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

MERRY CHRISTMAS DAY!

Stolen Poem.

Someone's stolen my pencil
Someone's stolen my pen
Justice will be swift
If I find who did the lift
Some bastard's stolen my pencil

Someone's stolen my ruler
Someone's stolen that too
A bloody vengeance I will serve
On whoever had the nerve
Some wanker's stolen my ruler

Someone's stolen my rubber
Someone's stolen...oh hold on there's a hole in the bottom of my pencil case.

By Person on a Bicycle aged 45 and some months and a few days and shit.

Snow Poem

In honour of today's weather, here is my ode to Snow:

Snow by Person on a Bicycle aged 44.6

When we get snow
I have to go slow
Because my bicycle has no plough
I will crawl like a snail
Big flappy flakes get in my eye
They come from somewhere in the sky
Don't ask me why
I am not a meteorologist that's why
I think it's something to do with a warm wet front meeting an area of cold air or something I'm not really sure don't quote me on that
You arsehat

The END.

Today's Angry Poem

DRIVER

Driver driver
You tried to run me over
You seem to think I'm just the same
As the Machopath in the middle of the lane
But I know how to behave on the road
I've eaten a copy of the Highway Code
You sit smugly in your smug four by four
Ferrying your smug western arse from smug door to door
Please don't turn me into a greasy pile of greasy gore
You pathetic scum sucking petrol company whore.

The End.

By Person on a Bicycle

The Cold, a poem.

Here's a Poem about the cold that I have written:

THE COLD by Person on a Bicycle, Aged 44 and a half.

Cold
Why are you so cold?
Why do I have to feel like a human icicle
When I'm pedalling my bicycle?
My thumbs feel like two frozen sausages
And my throat is in need of some lozenges
I feel so down
When you are
Around,
Cold
Although,
When someone smiles back at me and says "Cor, it's a bit Chilly"
I forget all about my shrunken, permafrost-riddled willy
And I feel happy to be alive
Then I skid on some ice and take a dive
And I am crushed by Jay who's just learnt to drive.

THE END.

Dog Poem

Poem to a dog:

Dog,
You are always trying to eat my wheels,
And snapping at my heels 
Have you ever wondered how that feels,
To be chased,
So one pedals in haste,
All over the placed,
And ends up crashing into a jogger called Sonia who is listening to Mumford & Sons on her mp3 player,
Causing me to delay her?

THE END

Angry Rant

Nicely balanced piece on the BBC Breakfast show this morning about how People on Bicycles are dying because they are riding themselves under vehicles. 
So effin angry I can hardly think. Every day, EVERY EFFIN DAY, someone almost kills me on my ride to work. I am just riding to work, obeying every road rule, being very considerate to every road user I come across, but this does nothing to protect me form people driving cars who see me as a cyclist, someone inconveniently in their way, someone not human with a family and a life and emotions, but something that an be hit with no consequences.
People driving have only their perspective of a situation that in no way risks their life, they calculate situations without factoring that an actual life is involved and at risk, mine.
Unless people change their twisted world view people on bicycles will continue to be killed over and over again, your father, your mother, your daughter, your son, your nephew, your niece, your neighbour, dead under the wheels of indifference.

Ambush

There was a tree across the bicycle path this morning, a perfect squirrel ambush sight, and right enough there were loads of the nut suckers raging amok, totally losing their shit, Percy the Park Keeper would have flipped his bleedin wig.

WORK LOAD

This morning I woke up at 5 and had breakfast then made a picture of chickens for my sister-in-law then made breakfast for everyone else then I put my one of my angry teenage boys' Xmas cards to his paper round clients into their envelopes then I helped the other teenage mope-a-bot clean his fish tank then I made everyone's lunches then I carried a toilet down stairs and put it in a car then I rode eight miles to work on my bicycle and now I've found out I'm not having a Christmas holiday due to deadlines at the beginning of January.

No wonder I just told the delivery driver a minute ago that his "van looks stupid and if you're not off my property in thirty seconds I'm respraying it"

Seasons Greetings

It was very dark as I rode home the other night for the start of my Christmas break. I was going a route that I don't usually travel along, along where the canal path joins the river path in Bath, due to it being the hang-out of flailing drunks and school children desperate to stab something.

There's a bit that goes very thin, called the Cataract, and only one Person Walking/Jogging/on a Bicycle can pass at a time and due to my innate politeness I always stop my Top-of-the-Range Bicycle-from-the-future for other people to come through first. 

One thing I do expect is a "thank you".

I know that your not meant to expect thanks for your acts of kindness, and you'll only be disappointed blah, blah, effin' blah, but if I don't hear those two words, or something amounting to it, I start to lose my world-reknowned cool.

Well on this occasion, I saw another Person on a Bicycle approaching the Cataract and I stopped to allow their passage. The rider had no lights on their bicycle, and they were in dark clothes, and they had no helmet, and their bushy mad hair stuck out in all directions.

"Merry Christmas!" I merrily chortled in my merry way.

"You Bastard," said the approaching bike-riding darkness.

A red mist suddenly descended from the sky and wrapped itself around me and I started to shiver with it's intensity. As the unfriendly dark rider drew near to go past me, I could smell his fetid, drunken breath, see his terrible flame filled eyes, and I could feel the demons within him. I knew what I had to do.

Flinging out an arm, I caught him across the neck. He made an odd gagging noise and then toppled to one side, over into the scrub on the waters edge.

"I said, 'Merry Christmas'" just incase he hadn't heard me.

He was struggling for breath and didn't seem that keen on answering me. I got off my amazing bike, put the composite alloy stand down, and walked over to where he was lying, entangled in his bike and the undergrowth, a shaking, open hand raised towards me.

"Here, let me help you up." I said.

I reached down and pulled his bike out from under him. It was an inferior, old make, that was probably stolen or something, it didn't even have a motor. I threw it as hard as I could across the river. It hit the other bank, bounced around for a bit then splashed down and sunk out of view into the black water.

"Looks like your walking, buddy," I quipped.

Then I turned my head downward to look at his pathetic, frightened body far below me. He slowly reached into his dirty, oily coat and pulled out something, something small, furry, and full of the furious furry fires of fetid hell; a squirrel.

I stumbled away backward, reeling in horror, fear and despair. He placed the squirrel on the ground and pulled another from his coat, an then another, and another. Before long, he had pulled some thirty or more hideous, rodent nut-botherers from a hidden cavity in his abdomen.

Wow, I look AMAZING. Pee-oww! Bang! Splat!

The squirrels formed themselves into one enormous super squirrel and shot towards me, arms flailing like a flail. I neatly side stepped them and then pushed off from the ground and shot into the air, only to crash down again directly as a gnarled giant clawed claw grabbed me. I lashed out with my other foot and sent the massive mutant howling into the river water, where it thrashed around screaming the many tiny squirrel screams that come out of a mutant ginormo super squirrel as it drowns.

Glad that that was over I got back on my bike and headed home for the Christmas break, safe in the knowledge that I had struck a deadly blow against those who think "manners" are just a cockney gangster's territory.