Blagger gets VERY hot in his sleep…he blames me and I can’t fight that corner. I’m like a furnace! He will be sprawled out, one leg off the edge of the bed whilst I’m buried under a duvet and a doubled up queen-size blanket, the window always has to be open. This struggle for temperature regulation sounds like an arse-ache but it works well; I like to hear the birds in the morning and it stops him from turning into a menopausal woman. 

Having the window open, however, does have one draw back – cyclists who love to have conversations, VERY LOUDLY, as they whizz past dressed in a technicolour condom. Blagger doesn’t own a shotgun…if he did he would be in prison for taking potshots at the vividly decorated men and women who spend their mornings shouting at each other, dodging cars and making guestures…and, with him at the trigger, the mornings would be devoid of bird-song. 

The most prevalent word used by cyclists in our part of the world, and I’m not joking for literary effect, is FUCK, in all its ‘er’ and ‘ing hell’ forms. 

I have no problem with cyclists being on the road…except for when they ride side by side, in a massive group, in the middle of the road or when joined by a, usually blue, Mondeo with orange flashing lights, proudly sporting that it is the race support car. Oh, I nearly forgot the checkpoints set up along the side of the road, halting traffic at crossroads, when it’s the car’s right of way, offering bananas for sustenance and bottles of water to quench the thirst of the condom covered men and women who, to be out doing such a thing on a Sunday morning, quite clearly hate their families. But mostly my problem is the shouting on a Sunday morning when we’re reading the papers! 

I have a few suggestions to smooth out these ‘problems’…

Most important first! The king of accessories for BMW owners…Bluetooth headsets! Bluetooth headsets would be perfect for the cyclists, and joy of joys – there are many options on the market! They could chat amongst themselves at a normal volume therefore not filling the countryside with ‘FUCK’ on a Sunday morning! That was easy…

As for the synchronised cycling displays – the pairs, couples with a third wheel and the groups – I suggest Sunday returns to being a true day of rest! No shops open, everyone stay home, read the papers, prep the roast. DFS and such like will hate me for suggesting such a thing, but this would dramatically clear the roads and, in turn, the hysterical drivers wailing and gesturing, screaming that cyclists don’t pay to be on the roads. This would also elimate the need for the support car nazi who loves to feel important but, instead, also portrays that he hates his family. 

Lastly – the banana brigade – they need designated posts! Not outside pubs or on corners on country lanes! They spoil the view, but worse than that, neither they nor the cyclists will stop in the pub they are defacing with their fold-out tables, deck chairs and clipboards. Even if the cyclists do stop cycling, or the flingers do stop flinging, they don’t pop in the pub to buy a drink, or a packet of pork scratchings – no, it’s to have a wazz or help themselves to the on-tap water behind the bar. The Publican is running a business, not a council owned bog and bottle filling service – although I’m sure he’d combine the two! The landlord of my old local would actually redirect cyclists to the outside to tap – the same one for dog walkers to fill up their faithful friends’ water bowl – this would make the cyclists angry, I say fair play – to the Landlord (Grizzly). 

To remedy this war of water and watch-posts, how about bus stops?! Buses don’t run on Sundays – there’s the answer. Bus-stops are for banana and bottle flingers on a Sunday! 

Remedials complete! 

But, as I said earlier, I have no problem with cyclists. My uncle is a technicolour condom wearer who enjoys whizzing about with his chums, eating bananas and trying not to get run over…I’ve never heard him swear though. Nor have I seen him for a few years – family hater!