The amount of times riders (read:squeaky-chained nodders) pull up in the tiny gap slightly behind and on my left, in the gutter, and I stare fixedly at them with my arm out indicating my future movement intention/reverse clothes line, and they pootle off straight over the junction on my wheel, is exactly mirrored by the amount of times I have cycled off from a junction after a left turn looking over my shoulder shouting something unintelligible abuse along the lines of "I knew it you were going to do that you [insert description of male or female genitalia]". - takes breath
I have great fun looking people in the eye and telling them my intention to turn, when in this situation. The absolute terror of having to talk to a stranger really gets the message across.
The Great British cycling public to not appreciate being engaged when stopped at lights.
The amount of times riders (read:squeaky-chained nodders) pull up in the tiny gap slightly behind and on my left, in the gutter, and I stare fixedly at them with my arm out indicating my future movement intention/reverse clothes line, and they pootle off straight over the junction on my wheel, is exactly mirrored by the amount of times I have cycled off from a junction after a left turn looking over my shoulder shouting something unintelligible abuse along the lines of "I knew it you were going to do that you [insert description of male or female genitalia]". - takes breath