Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Mentalists

Wandering through frantic yet beautiful Holloway on a blazing afternoon I come to the junction of Camden Road, pleased with myself for managing to get this far without purchasing any second hand office furniture (it’s an addiction, you see). Suddenly a small motorbike appears on the pedestrian island in the middle of the road. Its owner, a mad-looking heat-crazed red haired bloke with a very red face, is screaming at another guy who apparently has just “laughed” at his bike. It’s all a bit over the top – lots of “come on then you slag” and “who’s laughing now!!?” etc etc. Tiredly, I put my hand on the biker’s arm as he tries to ‘run over’ the teaser and say, as calmly as possibly in my best hippy voice “hey man, there’s kids. In prams”.

Mad Biker turns his gaze to me and screams at the top of his voice “Yeah!?!?” Worried that he might now try to ‘run’ me ‘over’ I quickly walk away and head for the nearest second hand furniture

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