Aha. So we approach the jubilee with unbounded glee. Do I fuck. I approach the jubilee with a frisson of fear, this weekend I'm riding yet another long slogging race. 4 mile time trial, 40 mile road stage on Saturday. 70 mile road race over the North Cotswolds on Sunday. Sort of hilly. Then, joy of joys, Monday and Tuesday I'm painting my fruit-of-my-loins bedroom. Why she has'nt moved out to a flat is a mystery to me. Maybe she is becomming more freindly with me old boot.
Well, as they say; God Save The Queen.
We're the future. Yor future.
Fucking hippies, yuppies, post-punks, new romantics, casuals, moshers, scallies.
and you, you boss-eyed get. Yes you. Go and fuck yourself with a blunt cut-throat razor.