Considerateable

I like to consider myself a considerate person with considerable powers of consideration.

As an example, take this morning, I had just turned onto the Winsley by-pass when I thought that I had forgotten to pack my wallet in my incredible-top-of-the-line BikeBins™. It occurred to me that if I got killed on the roads I wouldn't have my organ donor card on me, and it maybe too late to help someone by the time the emergency services found my family, which they would of had a hard time, due to there being no wallet in my panniers-of-the-future, my BikeBins™.

I then spent a couple of seconds feeling a bit sorry for my unclaimed mangled corpse lying in a morgue somewhere.

I slowed to a halt and checked to see if the wallet was there; it was, so I rode on.

It only occurred to me about ten minutes later that I had happily accepted my inevitable fate that I would be mashed to death on the road at some point, and that I didn't want to inconvenience anyone on a transplant waiting list too much.

Our world view distorts and changes to make sense of the madness around us, if it doesn't you'll go mad.

Black Ice

I pulled over on a little lane this morning to let a person driving a car overtake me, I then saw she was on he phone with her spoilt private school tosser child gawping at me and they didn't even thank me so I followed after them and blew the rear of their vehicle my customary raspberry and then went to turn off the lane up into Monkton Combe private tosser school and I skidded on black ice that I didn't see and then l rolled all over the lane.

As I lay there on my back, very still, I looked up into the cold blue sky and thought how beautiful it looked, the trees branches all reaching above me, a lone birdy flip flapping about. I then heard an approaching person in a car and they impatiently bibbed their horn at me. Turning my head to one side I could see it was the Mercedes driving poshie coming back after dropping her tossy child at it's tossy school. I twiddled my toes, I twiddled my fingers. Good, I thought, no spinal damage. 

She beeped again. 

I got to my feet and pulled myself and my twisted super bicycle out her way.

She drove past me again without thanking me.

I tried to blow another raspberry at her but I just dribbled on my quivering chin.

Premier Inn Holiday Story

Holy shit right, the fire alarm went off last night at the Premier Inn where we're staying at 1 in the morning and we had to go outside in a fucking hurricane and the guddam hotel didn't burn down it was a false alarm. Before going outside I rushed to my two teenage son's room and one of the enormolunks was still in bed! We all went back inside after half an hour in the pissing rain and hellstorm and then then an hour and a half later the cocking alarm goes off again and NO ONE in the whole hotel gets up except for me like a effin chump that I am. Then it goes of a third time! I brought all my emergency gear and torches and penknives and stuff I was in my element.
Having a fucking AWESOME holiday, and it's FREE cos of Premier Inn's stupid good night sleep promise. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

MERRY CHRISTMAS DAY!

Stolen Poem.

Someone's stolen my pencil
Someone's stolen my pen
Justice will be swift
If I find who did the lift
Some bastard's stolen my pencil

Someone's stolen my ruler
Someone's stolen that too
A bloody vengeance I will serve
On whoever had the nerve
Some wanker's stolen my ruler

Someone's stolen my rubber
Someone's stolen...oh hold on there's a hole in the bottom of my pencil case.

By Person on a Bicycle aged 45 and some months and a few days and shit.

Snow Poem

In honour of today's weather, here is my ode to Snow:

Snow by Person on a Bicycle aged 44.6

When we get snow
I have to go slow
Because my bicycle has no plough
I will crawl like a snail
Big flappy flakes get in my eye
They come from somewhere in the sky
Don't ask me why
I am not a meteorologist that's why
I think it's something to do with a warm wet front meeting an area of cold air or something I'm not really sure don't quote me on that
You arsehat

The END.

Today's Angry Poem

DRIVER

Driver driver
You tried to run me over
You seem to think I'm just the same
As the Machopath in the middle of the lane
But I know how to behave on the road
I've eaten a copy of the Highway Code
You sit smugly in your smug four by four
Ferrying your smug western arse from smug door to door
Please don't turn me into a greasy pile of greasy gore
You pathetic scum sucking petrol company whore.

The End.

By Person on a Bicycle

The Cold, a poem.

Here's a Poem about the cold that I have written:

THE COLD by Person on a Bicycle, Aged 44 and a half.

Cold
Why are you so cold?
Why do I have to feel like a human icicle
When I'm pedalling my bicycle?
My thumbs feel like two frozen sausages
And my throat is in need of some lozenges
I feel so down
When you are
Around,
Cold
Although,
When someone smiles back at me and says "Cor, it's a bit Chilly"
I forget all about my shrunken, permafrost-riddled willy
And I feel happy to be alive
Then I skid on some ice and take a dive
And I am crushed by Jay who's just learnt to drive.

THE END.