bouriz

Technically, the Black Bitch is still mine but I’m not allowed to ride her anymore, so effectively, I’m bikeless. I don’t think I’ve been bikeless since I was 18… apart from the occasionally protracted service… but that doesn’t really count as I still had a bike, it was just being fiddled with and I could lawfully ride it at any given moment. Now I’m actually bikeless, it’s a bloody horrid feeling, akin to impotency I should imagine.

Yesterday evening the Black Bitch was taken to the folks so it may be parked up off road, she was then locked and covered until such time she’s purchased by another fellow. Following a light grilling from my parents with regard to their perception that I may be involved in Satanism (I’m not kidding, incidentally) a bemused Piqued was dropped off at the station to catch the train, the bus, to home. It was a horrific journey, the train full of teenage Hockey players who made such an ear-shredding din I was forced to change carriages. And the fucking bus was well late.

I don’t watch Eastenders anymore, please check link to WWM on right and enjoy the rantings of those that do, but learnt that tonight a certain Boris Johnson makes a ‘cameo’ appearance on the soap. It seems to be causing a bit of a fuss and I’m not entirely sure why…

Well I am a bit; apparently Ken Livingston was denied a spot on the show when he suggested it to the BBC so the Corporation are being accused of political bias. I suppose I can see something in this but, really, what sort of prick would go from anti-Boris to pro-Boris based on his popping up on a soap opera? Judging by the preview on the BBC homepage, in which a clearly self-conscious Johnson attempts to act (check out that just-washed jerky head movement) it may do him more harm than good by highlighting what a fat toe-curling twit he is. Other arguments levelled at his BBC appearance are around the ‘he should be doing his job’ ilk. On the one hand this is fair-enough but for those of us living under his blonde bouffant it’s business as usual. Boris has done fuck-all for Londoners apart from stopping me from drinking on public transport and encouraging me to put mine and others lives in danger by allowing me to blast down bus lanes (as discussed in previous entries) when I’m not bikeless, of course.

So what if he’s on Eastenders, Neighbours, Emmerdale, Crossroads, Albion Market or what ever TV-bilge he cares to lend his talentlessness. At least it keeps the tit out of County Hall making up cynical and stupid dictates in lieu of actual transport policy that would allow me to get from Hackney to Wimbledon in less than the two fucking hours it took me this morning by crammed, public transport. That did smelled of dirty bottoms.

Oh, flat latest. During the day I had yet another row with my insouciant solicitor who seems to think it’s perfectly acceptable to not harangue the shit out my buyers legal ‘team’ when they curtly inform her that faxes are treated as post in terms of a 48-hour turnaround. In short, they now have every last shred of documentation required to initiate the exchange, but can’t be fucked to do anything about it. I’m sick to the back teeth of this shit and am haemorrhaging money like a menstruating primate with a serrated knife in its neck. Cunts!