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What mood are you in and why?


catmag
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Oh and I am in a mixed mood today.

 

On the commute into work I was involved in an accident. A car cut accross me, I hit her. However, she was very nice and good and we exchanged details. It was her fault, but I dont want all the fuss that comes with it. I am fine, bike is fine. BUT she has a small dent in her wing and dont want all the claim shit.

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Oh and I am in a mixed mood today.

 

On the commute into work I was involved in an accident. A car cut accross me, I hit her. However, she was very nice and good and we exchanged details. It was her fault, but I dont want all the fuss that comes with it. I am fine, bike is fine. BUT she has a small dent in her wing and dont want all the claim shit.

 

Fucking menaces on the road your lot. I was on the verge of mowing down about 20 of them at the weekend.

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First time felt sober, and "all there" for about a week.

 

Thought you'd cut down lad since you moved to the smoke?

I've not moved to the smoke, and I did cut down but had a few days off last week nice weather, went racing, out for the match Satder, meal out Sunday, that's me on the wagon now till Saturday and even then it's just pictures and "nando's". It's alright to go a bit mental once in a while but there's nee point in me whinging about the consequences though.

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Oh and I am in a mixed mood today.

 

On the commute into work I was involved in an accident. A car cut accross me, I hit her. However, she was very nice and good and we exchanged details. It was her fault, but I dont want all the fuss that comes with it. I am fine, bike is fine. BUT she has a small dent in her wing and dont want all the claim shit.

 

Fucking menaces on the road your lot. I was on the verge of mowing down about 20 of them at the weekend.

As soon as you get past Wetherby it's like being on the roads in Turkey.

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Oh and I am in a mixed mood today.

 

On the commute into work I was involved in an accident. A car cut accross me, I hit her. However, she was very nice and good and we exchanged details. It was her fault, but I dont want all the fuss that comes with it. I am fine, bike is fine. BUT she has a small dent in her wing and dont want all the claim shit.

 

Fucking menaces on the road your lot. I was on the verge of mowing down about 20 of them at the weekend.

 

;)

 

Well, it wasnt my fault.

 

The menaces are the people in cars AND on bikes who think about 1 thing. Themselves, not about other road users, just themselves.

 

EVERY evening I cycle home YOUR lot in cars are far more of a menace to us. Cut in cycle lanes, dont use mirrors, indicators, think the road is for them etc. If we all realise the road is for everyone's use, then thats good.

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Christ. Maybe. I'm an absolute disgrace at the minute, I've eaten a banana today. That's all I can manage.

 

My missus came home after a pissup in a mates house and I gave her abuse for being such a shambles. She's being very mature about my condition at the minute though.

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My lass went out for her 30th birthday last year. I get a phonecall at about 1 in the morning from her mate. "The taxi's just dropped me off and is on it's way to yours now.....you better wait up for it. *long pause* Don't shout at her."

 

So I'm stood at the bedroom window. Taxi pulls up. I can see him turned round talking to her, but there's no movement from the back of the taxi. He gets out, clocks me looking out the window and basically gives me a look that says "If this fucking thing belongs to you, you better get down here and take it off my hands."

 

I go downstairs. She's sat in the back of the taxi. Mortal. In a cowboy hat. So I go and get her out the taxi, and the driver comes round to check if there's any damage. It's immediately apparent that she's spewed up the inside of the door. And in the footwell. She's stood with a look of complete detachment on her face as me and the taxi driver look at her in disgust. I tell him that I'll get her in the house and I'll come back out with a cloth. As I'm walking behind her into the house, I notice that the seat of her dress is soaking.

 

"Have you fucking pissed yourself?"

 

"WHAT?!"

 

"You've fucking pissed yourself haven't you?"

 

"WHAT?!"

 

"Fucking go to bed, you dirty bastard."

 

I get the cloth and go back outside and the taxi driver is patting the seat where her arse was a few minutes ago.

 

"She's fucking pissed herself." he says. Now at this stage, I have no argument. I have no defence to offer up on her behalf, cos the evidence is damning. So he starts getting shirty about how he can't make any more money that night, and I tell him to come back the next day and I'll sort him out with some cash. He reckons he'd usually make another £40, so we agree on £40. Now he'd made me confirm that the back seat was wet, and I did....and there was no smell of piss. There was no smell at all.

 

Anyway, I get back upstairs and she's shaking an empty bottle at me. "It was water! I had it in my lap and it tipped over and I didn't realise until I was soaked. I didn't piss myself!"

 

Which is what I choose to believe.

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I once spewed out of a taxi window when I was out for my 18th birthday, it went right down the side of the taxi and the bloke wanted £50 out of me and my brother.

 

It wasn't happening like! We paid our fare but that was it.

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