Spotted...

OK here's one. Spotted on Sunday 10pm, in the rain, travelling East along Homerton High St, no lights, white arrospok on the front, white deep vs on the back, didn't get much of a chance to clock the rest of the components, since you swerved in front of me to turn right without indicating, and that left me with a few pressing matters to attend to - not skidding into the side of the road, into you, or being rear-ended by the cars behind me, and other similar trifles.

Here's a hint, you gigantic syphilitic clunge, that hipster-er-than-thou look you've got going on might be enough to let everyone within a mile know that you're a mindclunking twunt, but it isn't QUITE enough to let other road users know where the FUCK you're planning on cavorting to.

While we're on the subject, doing a flappy little arm wave somewhere near your prolapsed arsehole about ten minutes AFTER you've risked your worthless life and my rather more useful one is of about as much use as your three haircuts in one, you turdchoking shitehawk.

CUNTS.

I don't quite recall - it happened in about five seconds, was raining quite heavily, and he had no lights, like I said, but I seem to remember hints of green as I shook my fist fruitlessly at his oblivious departing backside...

Literary quality. The Hemingway of fixed gear riding.

I hate Hemingway.