Who do the think they are? Arrogant lycra clad wankers, that's who they are. Just because the Tour de France is on the telly doesn't mean that you can hog the fucking road 16 abreast you know. Get to flying fucking fuck the lot of you and get a proper hobby. Have you ever noticed that these groups are almost exclusively male by the way? I mean there may be the odd female in there, she's probably a lezzer anyway so that doesn't count, but generally these twats clogging up the country's A roads and B roads on a Sunday morning are blokes. You can see where I'm heading here can't you? The reason they cycle so fast is that they're all fucking chasing each other and can't wait to get back to the fucking clubhouse where the real action takes place, if you know what I mean. Fuck this cycling malarky, let's get back to the showers for some proper fun. "Oh Frank, can you hep me off with my shorts, this lycra's gone right up me sweaty bum crack so it has and I think I need a bit of muscle to help extract it. Go on, tug it harder..Right lads, helmets on the table..swapsies all round.." The dirty fucking bastards. They're all a gang of fucking knob jockeys. They don't even have fucking seats on some of them bikes you know, you have a closer look next time you force one of the dirty twats off the road and into a fucking hedge. Licking your own balls is perfectly normal, I do it all the time, but somebody else's? Tour de France, Tour de Arse more fucking like.
You couldn't make it up could you. I spent much of the weekend dozing on the sofa watching telly. Glastonbury was on, although sad to say there was no Snoop Dog, Bone Jovi or any other canine related artists. The big news seemed to be the lack of female headliners and now we know why as one scored a spectacular own goal. She missed her slot cos she was doing her hair. It takes ages she said. Why NOT start doing your hair well before your show time. Aaagh no where's my handbag I've left it in the car, I've got to back to fetch it.