The War on Britain's Roads (BBC Documentary / tabloid tv)

Is that what you use to see your winkle?

Why would I want to see vague outlines of other so-called road users in the transport limbo inhabited by those who have not and will never reach the zen heights of my own riding? This is all so much irrelevant noise to me. All that matters are the sensations I experience in the moment as I unlock the door of perfect momentum and understanding with my bicycle shaped skeleton key.

Why would I want to see vague outlines of other so-called road users in the transport limbo inhabited by those who have not and will never reach the zen heights of my own riding? This is all so much irrelevant noise to me. All that matters are the sensations I experience in the moment as I unlock the door of perfect momentum and understanding with my bicycle shaped skeleton key.

Scarlett's been at the Calpol again.

Flat shoes and clipless.. that rings a bell...

You ring bells with your shoes? Mucky bloody colonial monkey.

Shortly before I realised I was ready to up my metaphysical gearing and ascend into the realm inhabited by cycling gods, I fought in this war on the roads. I engaged in the prescribed methods of combat, and dutifully wrote letters home to my belle from the gutters. But after my epiphany, my riding style transmogrified into an expression of utmost purity and boundless love on two wheels. As I passed, children spontaneously laughed with wonder, and cabbies wept warm tears of bittersweet regret at the years they'd wasted in a black cocoon of hatred. The war was over.

^you should write a book.

a diary

i'm saying you should keep it to yourself...

You ring bells with your shoes? Mucky bloody colonial monkey.

You lot started it..

[ame="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NClLQfbCp3s"]Running
the Marathon for Sense...with bells on! - YouTube[/ame]

Shortly before I realised I was ready to up my metaphysical gearing and ascend into the realm inhabited by cycling gods, I fought in this war on the roads. I engaged in the prescribed methods of combat, and dutifully wrote letters home to my belle from the gutters. But after my epiphany, my riding style transmogrified into an expression of utmost purity and boundless love on two wheels. As I passed, children spontaneously laughed with wonder, and cabbies wept warm tears of bittersweet regret at the years they'd wasted in a black cocoon of hatred. The war was over.

What a load of doggerel.

Dogging?

On closer reading, I think you'll find it's 'verbiage' not 'doggerel', Bill. Much more sophisticated and French sounding.

bmmf repped for services to deprecation.

He's an accountant? That explains a lot.

Dogging?

In.

List?

1. Snottyotter
   

List closed.

See you later...

I only want to watch..

I'm fine with that.

Shortly before I realised I was ready to up my metaphysical gearing and ascend into the realm inhabited by cycling gods, I fought in this war on the roads. I engaged in the prescribed methods of combat, and dutifully wrote letters home to my belle from the gutters. But after my epiphany, my riding style transmogrified into an expression of utmost purity and boundless love on two wheels. As I passed, children spontaneously laughed with wonder, and cabbies wept warm tears of bittersweet regret at the years they'd wasted in a black cocoon of hatred. The war was over.

So good.