jefmcg
Guru
in what way does it work. I've noticed that if you shout obscenities at road rager, they tend to get more angry. Do you have a phrase so obscene, it calms them down? Like Red Adair using explosives to put a an oil rig fire?
Jeremy Vine meets a gangster
- Thread starter glenn forger
- Start date
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srw
It's a bit more complicated than that...
It's not the words, it's the extremely angry and abrupt tone in which he says them, including the very sudden, and very special, snarl.
Imagine the hate of Donald Trump crossed with the rage of Basil Fawlty, but without the inherent charm of either - and you're beginning to get there.
srw
It's a bit more complicated than that...
I should acknowledge that this is a side of Mr Zeqq that you very rarely see if you're on a bike or in a pub with him.
- Location
- London
More and more interested/intrigued.
How's about PMing me this verbal vitriol?
Won't repost, honest.
How's about PMing me this verbal vitriol?
Won't repost, honest.
winjim
Straddle the line, discord and rhyme
He put out fires as well? What a talented bloke, I loved him in those tap dancing movies.
goody
Veteran
- Location
- Carshalton
He wasn't tap dancing he was having flashbacks from when the explosives didn't quite work.
OP
OP
glenn forger
Guest
The Sun have found the driver:
Glow worm
Legendary Member
- Location
- Near Newmarket
Ah, so that's ok then
So there you have it, inconvenience a motorist in Britain, even by the tiniest amount, and you deserve everything you get. Shameful really.
srw
It's a bit more complicated than that...
If her description of the event is accurate (and I make no judgement on that) then he's been a complete nobber and needs a course in basic roadcraft.Ah, so that's ok then
So there you have it, inconvenience a motorist in Britain, even by the tiniest amount, and you deserve everything you get. Shameful really.
OP
OP
glenn forger
Guest
So so far the cops have done nothing and the driver has been persuaded to speak to The Sun. It is possible Shayna is better off than she was before.
Glow worm
Legendary Member
- Location
- Near Newmarket
I thought of Peter Walker on Friday. I left home at six, went through the Rotherhithe Tunnel, up to Barking, along the old Southend Road to Rainham, turned left past Jewish Cemetery, stopped for a pee in Pea Lane, went east across the drained mashland to Bulphan, then northeast to Little Burstead and Billericay where I stopped for coffee. Then, refreshed, I went through Stock, past the windmill, down Old Stock Lane (which is as delightful a piece of road as I know) through the Hanningfields, Bicknacre, Maldon and then by the sweetest back roads to Tolleshunt D'Arcy before running up through the Wigborough's Great and Small, Peldon and across The Strood to East Mersea where I carried my bike over the dunes to the Staithe and, after a wait, took the boat to Brightlingsea. I took pictures of a yawl (I think) and of clocks and cupolas, of views known to Constable and churches built before the Reformation. I thought of crashing Zepellins, John Ball, men hanged for poaching, samphire and oysterbeds.
From Brightlingsea I rode northeast through Great Bentley, Weeley, the Oakleys, Dovercourt and then to Harwich where I had a bacon sandwich and took the boat to Felixstowe, arriving in dear little Princes Road at about twenty to two. I took pictures of green lanes, ships from China and giant cranes, and thought of Swing Riots and the floods of '53. And I thought of Peter Walker again, because in all that seven hours and forty minutes, all those 91 miles, no motorist had caused me a single breath of anxiety. Not one. Which is par for the course.
The man is a chump. What joys await the cyclist! And how things have improved - in the time that I've been riding out of London, now well over forty years, life for us has never been better! Our bikes are marvels (even as my legs fade), the tarmac is in better repair than it's ever been, and, for all that there is more traffic on the roads, the respect afforded us is greater than it has ever been. It is impossible to convey the joys of cycling in words (and, heaven knows, I've tried) but one can only hope that characters like Walker and Vine will, one day, run out of bad things to say and start letting us know about the good things they, eventually, find on two wheels.
(The clouds were wonderful, but Fotherington-Thomas had dibs on them..)
From Brightlingsea I rode northeast through Great Bentley, Weeley, the Oakleys, Dovercourt and then to Harwich where I had a bacon sandwich and took the boat to Felixstowe, arriving in dear little Princes Road at about twenty to two. I took pictures of green lanes, ships from China and giant cranes, and thought of Swing Riots and the floods of '53. And I thought of Peter Walker again, because in all that seven hours and forty minutes, all those 91 miles, no motorist had caused me a single breath of anxiety. Not one. Which is par for the course.
The man is a chump. What joys await the cyclist! And how things have improved - in the time that I've been riding out of London, now well over forty years, life for us has never been better! Our bikes are marvels (even as my legs fade), the tarmac is in better repair than it's ever been, and, for all that there is more traffic on the roads, the respect afforded us is greater than it has ever been. It is impossible to convey the joys of cycling in words (and, heaven knows, I've tried) but one can only hope that characters like Walker and Vine will, one day, run out of bad things to say and start letting us know about the good things they, eventually, find on two wheels.
(The clouds were wonderful, but Fotherington-Thomas had dibs on them..)
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