Yesterday I nipped home from work at lunch time. I ride a bike to work, and a very nice bike it is too - it's a Carerra Subway. No suspension, no fancy bells or whistles, but it does the job and does it well. But this ain't a bike review, oh no. It's a review of the type of week I'm having: a fucking bad one.
So, like I said, I rode home from work at lunch time. So I'm cycling along a deserted street and get to the traffic lights. No cars behind me, none infront. Not even any waiting at the junction ahead to turn. But the lights are red, so like any dutiful cyclist I stop and wait for the green. I wait for another 5 MINUTES for the bastard lights to fucking change, still perched there like a bell-end on a deserted street, with no pedestrians anywhere in sight; waiting for the lights to go green.
Enough. I proceed across the deserted junction at a leisurely pace...only to spot a bright yellow blob in my periphery accompanied by "EXCUSE ME, SIR."
The fucking filth. On extremely expensive-looking mountain bikes. There was no way I could outrun them on my Subway. FUCK. They booked me for contravention of some traffic law and gave me a £30 on the spot fine for going through a red light. On a deserted road. On a fucking push-bike. What makes me even more annoyed is that at the time this jobsworth cop was writing me a ticket, a group of about 5 (obviously unemployed) scrotes shuffled past on the other side of the road clutching bottles of alcohol and jeering at me.
Justice always prevails, eh.