Impulse

I’ve bought myself a bike. I was browsing the web for cheap Mexican antidepressants and decided to do some comfort shopping. It’s a Street Bike, whatever that means. The info is a bit confusing as the website claims – and I quote directly here – “..is ideal for off-road scrambling, footpath excursions and cross-country hardbiking.” So why is it called a Street Bike? Maybe it’s named after someone called Mr Street who designed it. I really don’t know. All I know is it cost me £279, including delivery and a pump, and it’ll be here by Monday morning. I paid a bit more to get a wide seat with extra padding. Cycling to work will be bad enough, I’d like to know I’ll have some testicles left by the time I get there.
Next I have to think about an outfit. I think I’ll avoid those all-in-one cycling suits the professionals wear. They tend to be bright, and I’d rather not draw attention to myself as I struggle up the hill with my thighs wobbling. They’re also quite pricey, and I’d rather save the money for the painkillers I’m bound to need when I use it. And they force your genitalia forward and twist them into unnatural shapes. I saw a buff guy wearing them in the gym recently and his crotch looked like an entry for the Turner Prize.
I think I’ll just get some cheap shorts and T-shirts, and a towel to mop up my arse-sweat.
Primark, here I come….

RC 4-6-09
1610 BST