While MOTB may now be officially over, I notice that still there is nothing that changes my mood from OK (if “Oh God it’s early”) to Growl quicker than some stupid little smeghead cunt cycling up behind me on the path and ringing their bell in order to make me get out of the way.
In fact, it’s like flipping a switch. One little *ting* from that bell and Bastard returns, slowing down, making sure that the shit-for-brains arsewipe fucker behind me can’t get past.
In the end I didn’t quite slow down enough for them to fall off their bike, but they had to go off the path and onto the road in order to get past. And didn’t quite dare yell anything at me, as they’d been in the wrong anyway. (not that that appears to matter to Cambridge cyclists most of the time)
Really quite satisfying.