Bike Bore, Part II

Bike Bore, Part II

So, I went for a bike ride, and it didn't exactly go as planned. In fact, something happened that made me so angry, I wrote a letter. A letter filled with SARCASM. SARCASM and EBOLA.

Dear [Name of Bus Company redacted]

Congratulations on becoming the number one bus company in the Weymouth and Dorchester area! You run an extraordinarily good service, and I have never once been completely killed TO DEATH by one of your drivers.

However, this 100 per cent success rate nearly came to a premature end this last weekend as I took myself for a bicycle adventure around the Isle of Portland.

It being my life's ambition to clap eyes on the famed Nicodemus Knob on the island, I took myself across the causeway (without being killed TO DEATH), up through Fortuneswell (without being killed TO DEATH), up to the Portland Heights (without being killed TO DEATH) and started taking the scenic route round the isle (without being killed TO DEATH) in the hope of finding myself in awe of this colossal stone phallus at the climax of my ride (without being killed TO DEATH).

I think you can see a pattern emerging, for eg: My continued survival.

Perhaps it is my own fault for touring the island anti-clockwise (the way of SATAN), but as I emerged from Southwell on the way back to the seething metropolis of Easton and its incredible public display of hoodies, trogs, ne'er-do-wells and thieving tosspots, I found myself diving over a hedge and into a field, primarily to avoid the oncoming blur of one of your vehicles as it bore down on me and threatened my 100 per cent 'Don't get killed TO DEATH' record that had, up until then, been my pride and joy.

It pains me to say that my only response to this incident was to curse "I hope you get Ebola!" at the departing vehicle. Which, given the circumstances, was fair enough.

Despite my ordeal, I do not wish to see any of your drivers disciplined, for my only concern being their own safety. Could you therefore check your recent sick records and check that none of your drivers have died of Ebola? You may also wish to send out an appeal through the Dorset Echo and Wessex FM to check that none of your passengers have melted and shat out their intestines. These curses are dreadfully unpredictable, and I really don't what to kill off any innocent parties in a fit of temper.

And if you do find the driver, tell him he's a knob.

Stay lucky.

Your pal,

Albert O'Balsam

I can almost taste those free tickets.