IT'S NOT A SEXUAL INJURY... HONEST


I think I've broke my wrist, and before your filthy minds think I'm now a member of the sexual injuries clinic it’s not from pulling the purple poker, I went bollocks over brain while cycling to work, experiencing one of the most embarrassing things that can happen to someone during rush hour.
As usual I left home and started to cycle towards work weaving through traffic like a salmon swimming up a helter skelter. Which, by the way, I love doing in rush hour. I can imagine all the drivers of the cars sitting bubbling away like Cracatoa just before meltdown, white knuckles gripping the wheel, veins on foreheads pulsing like a challenger space shuttle warning light just before the explosion, tempers being pushed to the limits as the guy in the car nearest the traffic lights doesn’t see the light has changed to green and suddenly realises that it’s green and crawls forward as though he’s driving the queen mothers hearse.

When I streak past with ease I can almost hear the thoughts of them all in their metal coffins “look at that smug cunt, sliding through traffic as though he hasn’t a care in the world. I hope he gets run over by a bus. Maybe I'll see him again and I can chase him down like a fox being hunted by a pack of hounds”.

Anyway, that’s straying from the point of the story and going for a wander in my sick, sordid, flea pit of a mind, so I'll let it lie. For now anyways.

As I wound my way towards Balgreen school I passed a bus full of people sitting trying to pretend that they don’t mind sharing a seat with someone who has fallen asleep upon their shoulder and is covering them with drool.

I gave it a passing glance and seen that the passengers all had that same look as the drivers of the cars, that far away look of lunatics all over the world, the glassy eyed look of someone about to snap and scream at a dozing passenger
“WAKE UP YA WANKER!!! AND STOP FUCKING DRIBBLING LIKE YOU’RE CHRISTOPHER FUCKING REEVES AT AN ELECTRIC WHEELCHAIR SHOWROOM!!!”.
I rounded the corner and headed onto Balgreen road but the traffic was too thick to negate at a suitable speed to induce fury in everyone in a vehicle so I cut across the front of oncoming traffic and jumped onto the pavement dodging my way through all the baby boomers taking the kids to school.

As I approached the entrance to Saughton park at high speed I realised too late that I was about to leave the pavement, go across the car park entrance, and meet with the raised pavement on the other side.

“not to worry” I thought as I dropped from one kerb onto the car park entrance “I have brakes”.

psychic ability isn’t something I'd ever thought about very much but after what happened next I'm sure that all the psychic energy of the people that I had passed was concentrated upon me and my brakes.

I pulled upon the brake lever and nothing happened.

I tried to pull up the front wheel but only succeeded in raising it about an inch of the ground.

suddenly I found the world going upside down in slow motion.

I hit the pavement hard and heavy and landed with all my weight upon my left arm.

from the corner of my eye I noticed to my horror that I had performed my gracious dismount right in front of a packed bus.

I wished and hoped that a hole would open in the ground so I could drop into it and never again emerge into sunshine.

spending the rest of my natural in my own personal purgatory speaking no word coherent enough to be called rational and squawking like a demented chimpanzee at anyone unfortunate to try to assist me looked, at the time, to be preferable to how I felt at that moment.