Peds!

I usually retort this by saying something like this: 'you've no right to be alive, but your disappointing parents clawed into each other one night in some passionless sexual act in which your dad's withered-on-the-vine genitals managed to become turgid in some freak one-off act of animal instinct. From there you've failed in everything you do and everyone you know. Frankly, I've only just met you and I find you repugnant. You repulse me. I wish they could make a replica London and launch it off the coast of Cornwall just so you can be a smug cunt in your own city. I suspect somewhere between day 2 and 3 you'd be so disappointed you won't be able to point your bile laden, vitriolic mouth at someone, that you'll beat yourself to death with your own steering lock. Years later you'll be found in a replica NPC. 'Why?' they'll mutter. But we'll know. WE'LL KNOW!!!! So, why don't you get into your car. Turn on the ignition and keep driving. And keep your venom-laden opinions to yourself until you can learn some manners. Good day indeed."
'

You say this too? I thought it was just me.

I was wheezing down the road and someone stepped right out in front of me, no looking of course. I go smack into them and they go flying. As do I. I pick myself up, dust myself off, retrieve the bike, and check out the pedestrian lying prone and groaning in the gutter. It's only Dave Prowse! You couldn't make it up.

Well you could. In fact I just did.