• Last night, caught in a clusterfuck of traffic on the oval, some bellend on a screechy BSO scoots up my inside, wobbling so intensely that he knocks against my handlebars. He judders to a halt behind a bus, helmet wobbling about precariously on top of his head. We have the following exchange:

    Me: Wow, that was a really sweet undertake just there!
    Him: Oh. Thanks!
    Me: That's not a compliment.
    Him. Oh.
    Me: Your helmet isn't on properly, you do realise that?
    Him: Yes it is.
    Me: It's not even done up.
    Him: Yeah I know.
    Me: You're really fucking special.
    Him. Oh. Thanks!
    Me: That's not a compliment.
    Him: Oh.

    He then spotted a 2cm gap on the inside of the bus, so wobbled off on his merry way.

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