busturd

It’s so bloody lovely being back on Brutta. I’m back in the swing of things, I was a tad rusty after the snow but I’m back in the zone, as it were. Brutta too is getting looser every day, the once brand spanking new engine is starting to free and she’s displaying increased aptitude in the form of handling and balls out power. In addition my confidence as her pilot is gaining weight, we’re starting to gel, bond, and I’m beginning to push her a little harder, baby steps in these harsh times of poor weather, but progressing nonetheless. By spring I’ll be ready, I’ll be good to fucking go.

Obviously, this aspect of pushing a little harder doesn’t come without its teething problems, despite all this hubris I am a safe rider, the phrase ‘pride comes before a fall’ has to be taken into account when one rides aggressively. But of course, ‘being safe’ isn’t always my decision, nor is someone else’s perception of what constitutes ‘safe.’

It would seem my bugbear are the larger vehicles that occupy the road, largely because I can swoop about them in a way The Black Bitch could never. This morning, following a lovely little encounter with IC who was cycling to her office, I ducked inside a bus on London Bridge with space to spare, albeit not much, but it was a calculated manoeuvre and perfectly safe. The bus driver didn’t agree and was very displeased so he blew orf his horn; of course I gave him the finger as I felt he was being a little pedantic but on account of red lights ahead I found myself stationary with the bus behind me and its driver screaming at me from out his little window.

I turned to face him. He was utterly livid, completely unnecessary under the circumstances so I gestured to him that he could see there had been plenty of room, or at least, I could. I did this in code, to wit, point at driver, point at ones eyes with index and middle finger, point at back of bike, point at front of bus, emphasis space between two vehicles with a forward/back motion… I then made another rude gesture (the wanking one) before turning my back on him. This enraged him further, by now his head was sticking right out of the little window and he was demanding I go to him, offer myself up for, I presume, a slap. A small congregation of cyclists who’d witnessed my beautifully judged dive were sat smiling at the driver making an undignified spectacle of himself with his tongue flapping out of his drooling mouth like Whale cock and eyeballs boiling on lolly sticks, and screaming.

Just before the lights changed I turned and gave him a final wave, he was incandescent with rage. It was awfully satisfying, me and Brutta destroying a chaps day with skillz. I hope he’s pissed over the weekend too. The rude man.

Speaking of weekend, I made a tentative start on it yesterday evening. After a cold though victorious ride home I decided to investigate this broken-TV-aerial business in a little more detail. My landlord’s handy fellow had called me from my roof Wednesday afternoon asking if my TV was working as he couldn’t see anything wrong. I curtly informed him I was at work and before I hung up he asked me if I’d tested the connection on my portable. I lied and said ‘yes’ as I was adamant it was the aerial on the roof. Last night I tested the cable coming directly into the flat and the fucking portable worked perfectly, I then discovered that one of the subsequent aerial cables to the main TV was broken. This cable was taken out of the equation and, hey presto, TV working. I sheepishly called my landlord’s mate and apologised, he took it very well, bless him. What a nice man.

By means of celebration, Swineshead, Paul and Ned popped over and we spent the evening getting wasted and taking turns on Grand Theft Auto which became increasingly more hilarious as the evening wore on and various substances took their toll on us. I was so involved in all this broken TV and games lark last night I inadvertently forgot to eat anything. I’m currently sat in my office with a rumbling stomach wondering what the polish on my desk tastes like.

Right, you know the drill, it’s Friday. Have fun for fucks sake, it’s the weekend. Enjoy the tune especially.

NO. ARTIST SONG TITLE LAST WEEK WEEKS ON
30 The Temper Trap Fader 22 8
29 You Me At Six Underdog NE 1
28 Death Cab For Cutie Meet Me At The Equinox 26 13
27 AFI Medicate 21 10
26 Muse Undisclosed Desires 19 12
25 Phoenix 1901 25 3
24 Fightstar A City On Fire 16 9
23 Muse Resistance NE 1
22 Massive Attack Paradise Circus 29 2
21 The Courteeners Cross my heart and hope to fly 14 4
20 Ian Brown Just Like You 13 9
19 Ash Space Shot 17 3
18 Goldhawks Running Away 11 6
17 Chase And Status ft Plan B End Credits 12 12
16 Flyleaf Again 24 2
15 Plan B Stay Too Long 20 3
14 Mumford And Sons Winter Winds 10 9
13 Hot Chip One Life Stand 15 4
12 I Blame Coco Caesar 18 2
11 Them Crooked Vultures New Fang 9 11
10 Rammstein Ich Tu Dir Weh NE 1
9 The xx VCR NE 1
8 Depeche Mode Fragile Tension 5 8
7 Biffy Clyro Many Of Horror 10 4
6 Timbaland/N. Furtado/ SoShy Morning After Dark 3 7
5 Placebo Bright Lights 6 4
4 Marina And The Diamonds Hollywood 8 3
3 Pearl Jam Got Some 1 8
2 Editors You Don’t Know Love 4 5
1 Alice In Chains Your Decision 2 4