Psychopath

Today is my first birthday. 

For one year I've been jotting down my experiences of over five years, riding my top-of-the-range-incredobike, exactly as things happened.

But this is one story that I have never told. A story so horrifying, so steeped in fear, so despair giving, that until now I have been unable to speak about it.

It was the day I met a psychopath and almost died.

CLICK THIS:

It was an average kind of evening when I was making my merry way over the top of Widcombe Hill, past the University, when a car overtook me as another car was going past on the other side. The road is quite thin, but the Black BMW Licence Plate W*****R squeezed past me, within a bank vole's cobblers, doing about 40 mph. 

As I wobbled about trying to stay on my cutting-edge-of-technology bicycle, I shook my head in disbelief of what had happened.

Big mistake.

The Beemer, instead of just roaring off down the road like the bloated germanic nazimoblie it is, pulled up like it was going to turn right, but there was no right turn! What was this Person Driving A Car up to? I cautiously approached and made to ride through the gap on the inside.

Bigger mistake.

The BankManagingWankmobile, started up and cruised along side me, hideously close, and then the window wound slowly down.

"Are you OK mate?" came the vile voice, full of mocking hatred.

I said nothing.

Mega mistake.

"Are you alright?" he uttered like an evil Darth Vader or maybe even the Emperor it was that evil.

I kept my silence and rode on, I thought it best not to provoke him any more. 

Global mistake.

Steam was rising from my whirring legs, but he somehow he managed keep along side me. He could see I was trying to outrun him. I risked a glance to check out my foe. Just as I thought, a smartly dress out-of-shape fellow in his early thirties with a face full of unleashed evil and twisted monstrousness. As our eyes met, mine good, his burning with the devil's Maglites, I knew what I must do.

Switching my Bicycle-from-the-future into full auto, I leapt up onto the seat, and from there I jumped onto his roof. Just as I was pulling my Berettas from the holsters on the small of my back, his roof started to go backwards. I had failed to notice it was a convertible. I made a grab for the black canvas.

"What the hell are you doing?" he screamed as the car screeched to a halt. I was lucky to hold on. I knew I had to act quickly, before he could bring his laser eyes or mind control, or whatever these super-villains have, to bear upon me. Someone had to stop this psychopath now, and fast, before he killed someone.

"I am going to end your reign of horror now!" I roared, as lightning flashed all around me.

"Wha...?" He uttered in a guttural gurgle.

I pounced into the cab and proceeded to wrestle with him to remove his car keys. I easily overpowered him, because even though he was drenched through with malice and evil power, I am 6 foot 3 inches and really rather massively muscular, whilst he was really rather weak and didn't put up much of a fight.

I got the keys of evil in my just hands of good and turned and threw them into a nearby field full of cows.
"Thanks cows," I quipped.
"What the hell did you do that for, you...you...lunatic?" He raged.

I said nothing. Well, what can you say to people to make them realise what they are doing is wrong?

In one swift, smooth movement I leapt back onto my bike and rode on, safe in the knowledge that I had no number plate and was untraceable, unlike him, who I could easily find out where he lived and follow his wife home and stare at his children from across the street and burn his dog and poo through his letter box and get on his roof and kill his plants and rummage through his rubbish and live in his shed and appear in his bedroom one night and turn up where he works and form a sexual relationship with his widowed mother and wipe my wabblers all over his car door handles.

I think I have made the roads a little bit safer for everyone.

Now check out my Happy Birthday song video below.

Do it

or you're next.

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.

Blossom

As I was riding along Brassmill Lane this morning a Person driving a Huge Articulated Lorry passed me. As they swerved back across the road towards me to avoid the other Person driving a Lorry coming the other way it violently brushed the branches of the cherry trees that line the road.


Pink white blossom and chunks of wood flew like thousands of butterflies and enormous pencils from the trees, twisting, dancing, spinning and clattering about me as I wobbled into the curb inches from my inevitable doom. Falling like snow, I found myself in a beautiful blizzard of petals and logs on the pavement looking up as the soft, feather-like tree prettyfiers fell on my purple wonder-filled face and twisted bone-heap of a body.


All I could think about as I lay there, the rain starting to hammer on my eyeballs, was "That Person driving a Lorry didn't even swerve to avoid those trees, what hope have I?"


"None" said the trees.


I guess it's time I booked another appointment with My Therapist.

Today's Top Insult Pt.2

"Goddamn you, you stupid bastard! Why don't you go and piss on a plug socket!"

Theme Song

Hey! Got nothing better to do? Well check out this Link below. It's my very own theme tune. What? You think that is awfully egocentric of me to have my own theme song? Well, yes it is, but don't you, as you ride along the roads, have a three minute rant pounding on the inside of your skull to get out? Thought so, well here's mine:

LINK TO PERSON ON A BICYCLE THEME SONG, CLICK ME!

http://catnipp.bandcamp.com/track/person-on-a-bicycle

Or listen to it here on this video:

Or if you can't see that then try this link to the Facebook page to watch it there:

PERSON ON A BICYCLE THEME SONG ON FACEBOOK PAGE LINK


It has my complete and utter official endorsement as well as my distain and pity.
Anyway, for any of you chumps out there who are interested in these sort of things here are the 'lyrics':

Verse 1:
Hello, I'm Person on a Bicycle
My adventures they can be farcical
But I'm not typically typical
'Cause in a crash I lost a testicle
Attention I crave isn't medical
Although a creme I use is topical
Please don't be over-critical
Of when I ride reading my Kindle

Chorus:
My ravings are non-sensical
Horror, fear, despair make me cynical
I try and write it in an article
Called Person on a Bicycle!

Verse 2:
When I see a big vehicle
Squish a bunny I get hysterical
They tried to lock me in a hospital
Said my problems were purely psychological
Calling me a cyclist is not advisable
Machopaths and squirrels make me flammable
I don't want to get to technical
But fugg 'em, I'm Person on a Bicycle!

Chorus:

My ravings are non-sensical

Horror, fear, despair make me cynical

I try and write it in an article

Called Person on a Bicycle!

Horror
Fear
Despair
Horror
Fear
Despair!

Chorus:

My ravings are non-sensical

Horror, fear, despair make me cynical

I try and write it in an article

Called Person on a Bicycle!

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!

I'm Person on a bicycle

Not a tricyle

I'm Person on a motherlovin' Bicycle!

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

I like the way everything rhymes with ickle. Sort of.
There you go, hope you have many hours fun screaming this at cars as they pass you by in the street. Go and shout it full in the face of some pensioners at a bus stop. Works wonders for the soul!
BYE!

Ghosts

There is a lovely road that I travel down in the morning in Bath called Prior Park Road. On a sunny day it is a beautiful whizz downhill at top speedy speed. The scenery is stunning, with Prior Park itself on one side and on the other, an ancient overgrown graveyard.


But at night, on my way home, this all reverses. The road is a steep incline for 1.5 miles and it is dark and isolated. Silence beats on me from all sides like a kettling Police officer. Prior Park House stands tall and menacing at the top of the climb, looking down at me like a police officer who has just beaten me to the ground because I had the audacity to accidentally find myself in the wrong part of London at the wrong time and have the misfortune to look like a Bloodystudent.


Then there is The Graveyard.


It goes on and on and on, bit like me. It is dark, ancient and unfriendly, bit like me. It takes the dead into its arms and holds them, forever, bit like...no not that one, legally I must say, not that one. The creeping horrors that lurk within, creep as they lurk about creepily. A creeping sense of horror, fear and despair creeps my very soul as I puff my creepily purple-faced way up the creepy hill.


Travelling past it I always see the dead just standing there, impassively looking down at me, yes you heard, their dark figures unmoving, their pale mask faces following me as I struggle pass. I'm just like that kid in that film with Bruce Willis in it, you know, Home Alone. I've got used to seeing their frozen faces and it doesn't really bother me now, but something strange happened this thursday night as I was travelling home very late from work that struck me as strangely very strange.


One of the dark figures was shuffling about nervously, I slowed and stopped at looked at it. Its usually unmoving mouth was trembling and it looked as if it was about to speak to me. This is something that has never happened before. Usually I don't hear a peep from these guys, but now one was about to communicate. What would it say? What secrets from beyond the grave would it tell me? At the very least it could tell me if being dead is really as boring as it looks.


As his mouth opened wide to utter words from The Other Side, another corporeal dude shuffled over and gave the first stiff a nudge. The open-mouthed one quickly shut it, shrugged at the nudgey one and hung it's head in, all I can assume, was an embarrassed admission of guilt.
I looked as meanly as I could at the spooky bully, he took no notice and just glared me down, bastard.
I rode off none the wiser to what the ghosts keep to themselves....after all, what else have they got? Eff all.

LINK TO VIDEO ON FACEBOOK PAGE

Nice Cocks

I like to think of myself as a defender of the Weak and Put-Upon things in this world. No one, I feel, has done more to make the Weak and Put-Upon feel patronised than me. I will always, if I can, stick my huge face in where it is not needed, my overlarge bulbous eyes bulging at the injustices and wrongs I encounter on my journeys.

One such incident presented itself as I was travelling down Locksbrook Road in Bath early one morning towards work. Ahead of me, as I sped along on my £2500 super bicycle, I could see a large group of men, all standing around the back of an opened Removal Lorry. Their attention though was not on the possessions of their client that they were ramming into the truck with all the vigour of and finesse of a bunch of apes jamming bananas into their faces, but on an object walking on the other-side of the road.

A woman.

LOCATION OF MY SUPERHERO-STYLE WOMAN DEFENDING

Their heads all turned in robotic unison as she walked by. Their lustful eyes following her like stalkers ignoring their restraining order. I felt my rage rising in me like a red tide of horror and rage. I should do something, I should do something to protect the honour of this poor, helpless weak woman, the way only a Man can.

"Hey! Nice cocks!" I shouted at the Removal Monkeys as I rapidly approached.

They turned to me and one of them, with a mixed look of surprise, pride and bashful pleasure on his face said, "Er, thanks!" in a genuinely pleased way.
I rode on, safe in the knowledge that I had safely made the streets a safer place where feeble women can safely walk about showing their sexy bits in safety.


PHHHWOOOOOOAAAAAR!

I hadn't notice before how nice that Removal Ape's legs were. Mmmmm, calves.

Death

I have seen a lot of dead stuff. Squashed dead stuff, twitchy dead stuff, dead stuff at a tube station bleeding all over the platform, dead stuff that had other dead stuff piled on top of it into a massive pile o' death. I once saw a Badger on my way home from work that I thought was sleeping everyday by the side of the road. Every day I would see it and each day it grew fatter. "There's one Badger that's finding plenty to eat each night and then coming back to the same spot to sleep each day!" I would cheerily shout to myself as I passed it. It got to a crazy mental size, then the next day it must have eaten something explosive because it had popped and badger bits were everywhere. Strange.....


BUT! I have never seen something die. Never seen the light, then the brains, go out of it's eyes, well not until tonight I had not, I hadn't.


I was making my way down one of my least favourite roads, journeying home, when I saw a skanky old rodent with big ears hopping about in the middle of the lane of carnage. This bit of highway is very thin, passing for People in Cars is hard as they have to scrape their way past me as fast as they can and narrowly avoid the People in Cars coming the other way by pushing me further into the two and a half metre stone wall that supports the railway running along side of the road. Anyway, this floppy-eared fuckwit was just hopping around like the road was Mr. McGregor's garden. I immediately started to slow so as to not hurt the dopey sniffler and tried to flag the People in Cars queuing behind me down. I'm guessing my random hand-flaps were interpreted in a different way to that which they were intended.


The engine pitch of the car behind me raised to a Nazgul scream and then it Millenium Falcon-ed past me. One of the cars tyres went slippety slappety bang right over the middle of my new best friend. In slow motion Rabbit's eyes widened and kept on widening. Its mouth opened in what I thought at first to be shock, but as it happens it turned out to be the outlet for most of Rabbit's insides. Blood, little though it was, splashed onto my top-of-the-range Gore-tex water and windproof trousers. The car moved on, and Rabbit was released. It's outstretched arms relaxed and it's head lolled to one side. Then the rear tyre went over it.


As I stood there looking down in horror, fear and despair, People in Cars driving past me, some avoiding Rabbit, some not, some beeping me, some swearing at me, I saw Rabbit turn into nothing more than a greasy black stain on the asphalt. Once all the People in Cars had gone and I was left alone, I put my feet on my pedals and rode off.


Boy, that was B L E A K.

Here's a video of a drawing I did with my pens that My Therapist said would be good for me to do.

ALIENS!

I am going to tell you a story that I have told no other humanoid, not even those chumps in my Anger Management Circle that I have to go to.


It all started one cold clear winter night as I was travelling home along the A36. It can be an enclosed and lonely place if you are riding on your own (even on an incredible bike like mine), and this night seemed to have loneliness in buckets, buckets that were being filled to the brim and then emptied into a swimming pool of full despair and solitude. I hadn't seen or heard another living thingy, or been passed by a autocar for about five minutes when I came to a very straight part of the road that runs through an ancient, densely wooded area of the landscape.


Ahead, I saw something that made me question my own sanity: racing towards me, spanning the whole width of the road were four very bright lights, flying, only a foot or so off the ground, in some sort of close formation. What the hell were they? In seconds they would be on me, so I had to think fast. I pulled over as quickly as I could to the side of the road and almost fell to the verge for cover. The lights whooshed past me, a rush of dirty air filling my terrified lungs. 


How can I describe the sound they made? It was like the roaring of a mechanical tiger mixed with the honking of an enormous robot goose. I was filled with horror, fear and despair as I saw that the first four lights were being closely followed by a set of four red lights! 


Then something happened that will live with me forever and will make me wonder if we are really alone here, is there intelligent life out there anywhere in our galaxy or on our roads? The red lights suddenly split into two pairs and the pair nearest to me incredibly increased in speed and overtook the other set of red lights!


Almost as suddenly as they had appeared the light vanished around the corner and I was left alone again to my racing thoughts. I had definitely seen something out of the ordinary, and for now I had now other explanation for it, other than it was a low flying UFO or something odd and unexplainable, and that it had just had a very close encounter with me!


"Why would they travel all the way across the vastness of space just to run you off the road, you sick, paranoid lunatic? Have you stopped taking your medication again?" you may scream across the living room at me, but I think the evidence speaks for itself.


This should have been the end of what the night had to offer me in Weird Shit, but oh no! I wasn't going to get off that lightly, my night was about to get a whole lot more extraterrestrial on my ass. But that is a story that I will continue with tomorrow....

PROOF that E.T. is a total dick. If more were needed.

SNOW!

You know that white cack that falls out of the sky sometimes?


No, not bird doodoo, the other stuff, that comes out of those other, fluffy, ominous sky hangers. Yeah, you got it SNOW. Now, some people I know are desperate for it to snow, They think that it is just effin' fantastic, because it can stop them from going to work and breaks up the monotony of getting a constant work grinding.


I, on the other hand (which is covered in a top-class techno-top goretex glove, which cost me a shed-load of wonga), I am less enthusiastic. "Hey, you grouchy cokesupper!" you might shout at me across a busy street, for not liking the White Death, but this isn't the case. I like throwing balls made of the mushy crud, and sliding down hills on an old shower curtain on it as much as any toddler, but when it comes to riding my bike on it, I want to fubb it's shit up.


You see, when it drifts, ever so gently, down from the sky, the first place it settles on is the canal path. It is also the last place it will cling onto well after the rest of it has turned into brown slush puppys in the gutters. When this happens, the path turns from something quite lovely and safe to a wild place, full of primeval horror and ancient fears. Bands of starving Crusty Juggling Canal People maraud through the misty drifts with impunity, their enormous packs of snarling dogs desperately snatching meat where they can.

In snow no one can hear you scream. Well, they can, but no one gives a crap.

Trying to ride your futuristic two-wheeled space-age transport thing on snow is an acquired taste, and I've fallen off more times than I can remember now (due to head injuries), so I am not looking forward as many others to this impending wave of white and icy man-traps.


Going on the road is a total no-no. Last time I tried that my gears froze in first gear, and although I was very good at going up the shiny slopes, the 15 mile tail back of very patient and polite drivers got a bit testy when I could only do about 8 miles and hour on the flat. This led to me being encouraged  out of the clear salted strip of road and into the soft welcoming sludge at the side of it. As I lay there with the soft flakes falling onto my bewildered face, starting to bury me, all I could think of was, "I hope when I am found come spring time, and they try and straighten my frozen corpse, they don't accidentally snap my cock off."

CAR

Something happened to me today that very rarely happens.


I went to work in one of those car things. Yeah, me, Person on a Bicycle was Person in a Car for once.


Now, I will never claim to be a good driver (I have a habit of mounting kerbs and it took me five times to pass my driving test. On the last time the tester said that she was passing me because, and I repeat, because; I was "not great at driving, but you're probably not going to kill anyone."), but nothing, nothing could have prepared me for what lay ahead. I didn't get attacked by a dog. I didn't get sworn at. I didn't see Weird Shit. I didn't even feel like I was going to die every time something passed me. For one day I was a god, and it was going to feel good. I can see why people like doing this car thing, it's like you are still in your house, but travelling to work all the same.

The sky was a troubled grey, with wind and rain battering my metal and glass shell, but it was I who was going to have a good laugh at all those Losers on a Bicycle for a change. But hold on, they were over taking me! What the funbells? I was stuck in traffic jams and those arrogant sons of beach-balls on two wheels were over-taking me! Can I not go in any form of transport where someone doesn't speed past me like a maniac who has just escaped from the scene of their latest stab-athon? 


I tell you, by the end of the day I wanted to rip off my windscreen wiper and ram it into the lycra-ed chest of the next smarmy glow-in-the-dark pants who tried to slide, ever-so-easily past me.

ARE YOU A CONSIDERATE ROAD/CANAL PATH USER OR ARE YOU A FUDGING CLINTHAMMER QUESTIONNAIRE.

Hello! Today I am doing a multiple choice questionnaire because it is easy and fills up loads of space. Don't be frightened of what you may find about yourself, have a go!


1.You are watching that effin Noddy CGI cartoon crap on a Sunday morning because your son has turned it over from Match of the Day 'cause he says that football is just a pile of boring monkey cack, and Noddy has just driven his little stupid car too fast past Bumpy Dog and splashed that corrupt cop PC Plod with mud. Do you think Noddy should:
A: Stop the car and see if Bumpy is Ok and offer to give Plod a good polish.
B: Flip them all The Bird and shout out of his window, "HAR!HAR! Get out of my way you loser! Do you want me to run you over?!" (actual quote)
C: U-Turn and finish the job.


2. Look at the photo below. Go on, look at it, LOOK AT IT!

Do you think:

A: HOLY SHEEEEEEET! Poor Noddy and Bumpy!

B: HAR!HAR! Stupid effing Noddy and that wonker of a mutt got what was coming to them! YEE-HAAAAR!

C: That's a start. Now finish the job.

3. You're on your push bike going around a blind curve and that ass hat Noddy in a car decides he needs to be past you now, do you:

A: Carry on riding regardless of what other road users wish to do, even though you are slowing everyone down, you selfish muthafurger.

B: Veer wildly all over the road in fear and terror screaming at the top of your lungs "Hit me! Please hit me! I want to die! I can't stand the horror any longer! YAAAAARRRGGG!" (actual quote)

C: Stop your pathetically outmoded form of transport in the middle of the road and start punching stuff.

4. You see Noddy walking Bumpy Dog down the canal path. Do you:

A: Slow your bicycle to let them pass allowing Bumpy Dog to totally eff you up with his rabid munchers whilst Noddy laughs, the bell on this hat ringing like the bells at your funeral.

B: Speed up, take the dog out first and then run Noddy into the black greasy water of the canal.

C: Immediately get yourself sectioned again.

If you scored mainly A's, you are a total wuss who will not last 2 seconds out there before some company car driving sociopath makes you his latest trophy.

If you scored mainly B's you are a perfect road user, well suited to today's busy lifestyle. This is one rat race you're going to win!

If you scored mainly C's, please turn yourself in. Life and Death is not for you to decide, unless that is what you want, then that's fine with me! Please spare me, I want to live!

Remember, the roads are "the Country's arteries", you can tell that by the blood all over them.

OVERVIEW MAP

   I thought it would be nice today to give the unfortunate reader of this bleurg an Overview and Map of my journey to and fro, form work and home. I will not be giving away any personal information that would allow someone or something to closely track and hunt me down. 
    I most certainly will not be showing you where I work,

who I work for,

and where I live,

with these people:

I have clearly labelled the Map with a Key to a few key incidents that have occurred during my four years of doing this trip and I will be updating it if anything else happens.

FLATSO

I saw something on my way to work the other day that filled me with almost total horror, fear and despair.


I have grown unfortunately accustomed to seeing the small things of this world cruelly, but justly squished on the roads (after all, they really shouldn't be there, they pay no Road Tax after all), their bloody and torn bone-heaps littering my journeys. Avoiding their effed up carcasses can be quite a hazard. Many is the time I've quietly chuckled to myself as I swerve to bypass skidding in badger brains only to get in the busy traffic's way. "Watch out, wouldn't want me to join my flatmates on the road there!" I guffaw  to myself like an insane man.


Unquestionably, the most horrific of these victims to stupidity was one little fella I saw near to where I work down Brassmill Lane in Bath. I could see something small coming out of the road in front of me. Yes, coming out of the road! A gaping mouth (that is a bit of a theme with these guys), and arms outstretched, it was a squirrel that looked as if it was rising from the bowels of Hell itself. Squirrels are kind of grey coloured, as their name suggests I guess, and this chump was no exception. In fact, kind of road coloured. His back half had been so flattened that it looked like part of the road. Like some tarmac-based terminator reforming and then stopping reforming due to death, little nut-kins was frozen in a pose of not-quite-leaping to safety.


And all I could think about as looked down at his sad, confused, frightened, hellish eyes was, "That's one squirrel who's lost his nuts."

More horror than I can cope with. RECONSTRUCTION.

DEER ME.

The dark nights can hide some surprises.


The crisp air, fogged with moisture, clouds many mysteries. Things in the trees whisper secrets to each other and the hedgerows are alive with eyes, watching, always watching. Sometimes, something brakes this cover and that's when the shit really goes down. 

  
One such starless night I was pedalling my merry way up Winsley Hill when I rounded a corner and noticed a large dark lump on the road ahead. It was approximately the size of a small humanoid, but as I drew closer I knew this was no human I had ever seen. 


Out of the strange silhouette I started to describe two large shiny black eyes, a large wet nose, and a tongue lolling from it's open mouth. It was a deer. A dead deer. A dearly departed. I stopped next to it, and looked down on it's corpse. I knew it was dead due to the way the top half was facing in a different direction to the bottom. 


I decided to drag the deer out of the road so it would cease to be an obstacle to all the important people in their cars going on their speedy way home to have arguments and recriminations with their loved ones. The deer was heavy and still warm, but I grabbed a leg and dragged it off the road and onto the verge. It was tough going, and I was grateful for the breeze the cars racing past just inches from my head, brought to my sweaty brow from the exertion.


Once the venison was off the road, I got back to my bike and pottered off. Four seconds later something rushed past my shoulder only a hairs breadth from me, almost knocking me from my metal steed. 


Now, I'm not completely sure, I may have been mistaken, but was it the spirit of the dead deer roaring past me on it's way to antler heaven, or just some careless cakesucking fudwit in a 4x4? 


I will never know. 


Hmmm, spoooooky.

RABBIT IN THE HATELIGHTS

As I was riding home last night up Winsley Hill, and a car overtook me on the blind turn at the top unable to see that a car was coming in the other direction, I saw a curious thing.

As the road space left to me rapidly diminished and I quickly made my peace with the universe, I had a momentary vision of a Rabbit by the roadside illuminated in the headlight's glare. It's eyes flashed like fire as it's shaking body quivered ready to run into the road. 

It was at that point that I thought, "Go on run into the road, you crazy bastard! I dare you! I will cut you in half if you get in my motherhugging way! I don't care if I orphan your thirty five children! You mean nothing to me, do you hear? Nothing! NOTHIIIIING!"