Welcome to Fuck Off and Die Thursdays.
As you know, this blog is full of random rants at Life, the Universe and Everything. But all these rants have been a little haphazard so far. Lacking in organisation, as it would. And that simply won’t do for an OCD freak like me. Ergo, FOAD Thursdays.
Every now and then, on a particular Thursday, I shall vent my spleen at the stupid, the slow and the downright annoying.
Today’s volunteers for this not-so-rare honour are the Cyclists of Mumbai. Men, who cycle as if:
a) They’re out for a fresh breath of air in the English countryside, and not, as they actually seem to be, trying to manouevre their way out of Mumbai’s many smoggy, snake-like traffic-jams.
b) They’re racing with a three-year-old on a tricycle – a mean, competitive little toddler who’s going to win this contest hands down.
c) They’re trying to make a case for the need to introduce riding licenses.
d) They have been blessed with the hand-eye coordination of a severely drunk chihuahua.
Their cycling skills invariably cause me to break suddenly and dangerously, throwing my already damaged lower back further out of alignment. And so today, I have a request for these wonderful specimens of humanity.
Gentlemen, please. Fuck off and die.