Bumpkin

I’m knackered.
I decided to start my Springtime Footpath Challenge today so I got out the Patented Rory Wonderbike and took myself off for as cycle. I got a bit carried away and ended up doing 35 miles. I barely made it home alive, and my thighs are burning more than a pile of charcoal covered in acid.
I had another of my interesting encounters with local life. I stopped by a stream in a village I’ve never been to before, and found myself dozing after enjoying my packed lunch, only to be awakened by an overweight local f**kwit who thought I was trying to steal something. Apparently, somewhere in the UK recently, a gang of Portugese men were knocking down road signs and sending them back to their homeland to be melted down for profit. How the Hell I was supposed to be transporting eight-foot high road signs on a Raleigh seemed to be lost on him, but I think many things would be lost on him, bless him. He looked a bit like one of the hobbits from ‘Fellowship Of The Ring’ but with a handlebar moustache and a bad smell. He told me “If they try any of that thieving here, then this country boy will give ‘em a whooping” and then he waddled off back to his home, which I imagine is unlikely to ever feature in ‘Beautiful Homes And Gardens.’ Why do people always come over and disturb you when you’re trying to enjoy a few moment’s peace in the countryside? If I hadn’t been drowning in lactic acid I’d have followed him home and had a shit in his garden.

RC 30-3-10