That roundabout at the Rose and Crown is a nightmare since the roadworks started. Lots of cars jerking forward and stopping in the middle of the road.
On a related and vague spot, a few months ago me and some mates were coming out of the Rose and Crown and saw this horribly built pug conversion chained to the railings. It was literally one of the ugliest bikes I've ever seen - huge wide handlebars, clearances you could hide an australian in, these fucked up wheels with huge knobbly mountain bike tyres on it. Anyway, we were pretty hammered, and we're catty fuckers, so as we're walking past it we were trying to come up with the most vile simile we could to describe it. My mate had just described it as being something akin to being kicked in the balls by a six year old child, in a swimming pool filled with sick, and just behind us we heard the owner of the bike saying 'hey what's all that about' as he unlocked the thing. He sounded very hurt. If that's someone on here, sorry about that. We giggled all the way home.
On a related spot, this morning coming across Southwark Bridge, some class war looking clunge (facemask, dreadlocks, recycled tarpaulin flapbag, mudguards so huge they could be used as wings, etc.) on a hybrid getting all pissy because I'd overtaken him. Mate, if you pull away from the lights in the lowest gear possible, spinning like a washing machine but only going three miles an hour, you're going to get overtaken. If you consider this to be some kind of threat to your masculinity, fine, but causing an accident isn't going to make you feel any better about your deficient manbeans. Fuckwit.
That roundabout at the Rose and Crown is a nightmare since the roadworks started. Lots of cars jerking forward and stopping in the middle of the road.
On a related and vague spot, a few months ago me and some mates were coming out of the Rose and Crown and saw this horribly built pug conversion chained to the railings. It was literally one of the ugliest bikes I've ever seen - huge wide handlebars, clearances you could hide an australian in, these fucked up wheels with huge knobbly mountain bike tyres on it. Anyway, we were pretty hammered, and we're catty fuckers, so as we're walking past it we were trying to come up with the most vile simile we could to describe it. My mate had just described it as being something akin to being kicked in the balls by a six year old child, in a swimming pool filled with sick, and just behind us we heard the owner of the bike saying 'hey what's all that about' as he unlocked the thing. He sounded very hurt. If that's someone on here, sorry about that. We giggled all the way home.
On a related spot, this morning coming across Southwark Bridge, some class war looking clunge (facemask, dreadlocks, recycled tarpaulin flapbag, mudguards so huge they could be used as wings, etc.) on a hybrid getting all pissy because I'd overtaken him. Mate, if you pull away from the lights in the lowest gear possible, spinning like a washing machine but only going three miles an hour, you're going to get overtaken. If you consider this to be some kind of threat to your masculinity, fine, but causing an accident isn't going to make you feel any better about your deficient manbeans. Fuckwit.