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  • Just this very eve on the way home from t' pub after two post work pints, I got called a "fahkin' khaaant" by one of our be-knowledged brethren for no other reason I can fathom other than holding my lane positioning on Elephant and Castle's main circus (I have added additional consonants to his phrase, only because he was clearly suffering from some debilitating disability that renders all canines and lateral incisors from one's gums, such as to affect clear and reasoned communication).

    We traded positions many times on our journey down Walworth Road. We also traded "fahkin' khaaant"'s and squeaks of my squeaky horn (the latter usually prompting more frequent use of the former). I felt bereft when we were forced to part ways at Coldharbour Lane. I crossed his path for the last time as I followed the one way system and he sat at the lights waiting to carry on his fruitless journey towards the ascent of Denmark Hill. My cheery wave may have cause some form of aneurysm in his A-Z filled brain but I cannot be certain as I was distracted by the drunks fighting outside the back of Nando's to return his gaze.

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