Ken

One thing I don’t get, motorcycles horns. The regular reader of this tripe will know that I’m a privileged owner of a snarling fucking beast that looks as good as it goes, bit like my mum. So why, then, when using my horn in anger does it sound like one of those whiney farts one extrudes when one is backed up with yesterdays breakfast?

Take this morning for instance, when riding in some right wing yobbo (I know of his political persuasion because he was driving a Rover and despite the time of the day was togged up in a Chelsea football shirt allowing the world to witness his revolting Bulldog tattoo simpering on his forearm, which was as thick as my leg, rather like this fellow I concluded) just before he pulled out on me as I was passing him by.

I leant on my horn which squeaked into life causing this herbert to actually fucking smirk. Humiliated, frankly, I braked and let him carry out his preposterous manoeuvre and slotted behind him. I revved my engine and he looked in his rear view mirror.

Then he gave me the finger.

Quick calculations followed, we were travelling at about 20 mph, the road was clear in the opposite direction, there was one car in front of him about to turn left at the apex of a left hander, I pulled out from behind his car, accelerated hard past his retarded vehicle and in doing so kicked the cunts wing mirror off, shot in front the car about to turn left (thereby concealing my registration) and disappeared up the road like black streak of death before he’d even have had a chance to inhale to scream. Great stuff.

I had an appalling day in the office yesterday, business was virtually non-existent and co-workers were hell bent on aggravating me. In addition the weather was beyond contempt, it was colder than Hitler’s heart and wetter than a squids bum. On my journey both to and from work it rained with such intensity that my waterproof trousers fucking gave out causing my scrote to moisten. I was glad to get home I can tell you. Yes.

In the evening I wandered up to my local in order to meet a friend for a couple of pints, we returned back to my gaff in order to eat sushi and drink wines. A delightful evening passed in front of youtube, The Apprentice was spurned but doubtless a review will have already appeared on WWM (link right)…

Right, it’s the London elections today. Vote for Ken’s for fucks sake, I know he’s not perfect but he’s head a shoulders over the competition, in particular that blonde bastard Boris. Don’t be fooled by his charming bumbling bimbling buffoon act, inside is a hard right wing fuck face with delusions of his intelligence.

Can’t believe this is on youtube… (bear with it)