On Your Marks


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Budding London Olympians will get an early the chance to improve their speed out of the blocks thanks to Mayor Boris. He’s decided to cut up to 6 seconds off the time the “green man” phase of the capital’s pedestrian crossings.This brilliant scheme will, apparently, help get the traffic moving in the metropolis. And sod those on foot. According to the Evening Standard this could leave pedestrians up to 6 metres short of the kerb when the time comes for the cars to move off again. Perfect training for our sprinters as they’re gonna be at least that behind the rest of the field come 2010.

The gentle ‘ping’ signalling it’s safe to cross will be replaced by a male voice (rumoured to be that of completely-innocent TV favourite Michael Barrymore) shouting “GET A FUCKING MOVE ON”. Roller skates will be provided for the elderly or infirm. Wheelchair users will be encouraged to give lifts to others. If you’re blind, you’ll have to trade your labrador for a whippet.

I may be making some of this up, but the thing about the 6 seconds is true.

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Having Trouble Crossing That Road?
So it’s open season for those of us on foot. But what of our beloved cyclists? You know the ones— that lot who are apparently saving the planet. The smug bastard that stands, sweating, next to you in the office lift every morning. Wearing lycra. Pointing that thing at you. AT HIS AGE???? But even that wouldn’t matter if you hadn’t just nearly been run over on the way in by one of his kind who doesn’t think red traffic lights apply to cyclists. So why doesn’t Boris (yes, another cyclist) sort that lot out before this Tweets version of crossing the road comes in? I’m a mild mannered man but sometimes I’m actually driven to abusive language (most mornings outside London Bridge Station, around 8:50) as these helmets in helmets (usually couriers) plough through a crossing, narrowly missing me. They get very narky if you give em a quick nudge, you know?

The concept of cycling is, I suppose, a reasonable. It’s a clean, quiet and cheap way to get around. Nothing wrong there. But who among us hasn’t sat in a meeting room/pub/cell listening to one of them prattle on and on about thefumesandthe-fuckinignorantbusdriversandtheresnowheretostoreyourbikeonceyougetthereand-thetraindriverswontletabikeonduringrushhourandIrememberwhenyoucouldputthem-intheguardsvanandtaxidriversincyclelanesandihadapuncturecomingintoworkandhad-topushitallthewaytoevansonthecutand…… SHUT UP YOU DULL, DULL BASTARD. I DON’T CARE !!! Tell you what, mate, sell your bike, your “lid” (don’t get me started), your fingerless mittens, your little water-bottle and your “smog mask” (stop it). Use the money raised to by an Oyster Card and get a life.
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On second thoughts don’t. Run me over. Put me out of my misery.

This is Your Enemy

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