Not to be over-dramatic, but I skipped from the office today and on to my bike, which had been locked up outside all day, only to nearly die approx three or four times on the way home because some FUCKWIT had nicked my front brake pads. Actually unscrewed and removed both, fairly new brake pads.
I nearly died wheeling downhill from Notting Hill to Shepherd’s Bush. It was like a ride at Alton Towers, but fractionally less fun.
I nearly died between a bus on one side and a car on the other in two-lane traffic when I couldn’t stop quickly enough.
I nearly died when I almost slammed into a British Gas van who turned left without indicating and, again, I couldn’t brake fast enough.
I mean WHO steals bike brake pads? It is totally moronic. Biking in London is dangerous enough, I’d say, without this sort of fuckery.
S’alright though, because I’ve got to watch Made in Chelsea tonight, which will probably
calm me down make me want to gouge my own eyes out.
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