Thursday, 2 June 2011

In which yet more evidence of my twattery emerges

I've always been open about the fact that I am a bit of a twat. However, recently I outdid myself. It was truly, deeply, magnificently spaztastic. Are you sitting comfortably? Then we'll begin.

I started work properly last week (hence the lack of posting lately... excuses, excuses, scrape, grovel, please forgive me, sole remaining reader... oh, there goes a tumbleweed). The second day, I was cycling in, feeling rather proud of myself for managing to leave the house almost on time, wearing a proper bra and everything. Unfortunately, I failed to wear proper trousers, and approximately 30 seconds away from the house I realized that said trousers were rapidly working their way down my arse, exposing some undoubtedly greying saggy old knickers and a fair acre of bum flesh. Nice!

Now, I am ever eager to protect the public from sights that may cause them to tear their own eyes out while running round in circles screaming in horror. So I decided to try and hike the failing trousers back up and over the exposed arse of shame. I took one hand off the handlebars to do this, and wiggled about, the better to get the rebellious waistband back up to its rightful place. Unfortunately, I began to go down hill at this point (both literally and figuratively). Feeling the bike speed up as I simultaneously wobbled all over the road, I grabbed desperately at the brakes. Unfortunately (#2) the grabbing was a little too desperate, and resulted in my front wheel locking completely. Following the laws of the physical universe - specifically that tricky little so-and-so gravity - this led to me shooting straight over the handlebars in a magnificent road-bound swan dive. I then proceeded to leave a sizeable amount of my own skin on the tarmac, along with what still remains of my pride.

If anyone was watching at the time, the whole incident would have looked utterly bizarre and really fairly amusing. Fortnately (whoo-hoo! There's a first time for everything), the one piece of luck was that there wasn't a soul around to witness my magnificent spaztwattery. So I'm telling you all about it now, so you can recreate the glorious scene in your minds, and have a good guffaw. Just don't try to visualize the arse. You have been warned.


  1. I could perhaps be psychoanalysing this too much but maybe, as you felt you had revealed too much skin than that with which you were comfortable, your subconscious made you crash so that some skin be permanently removed by way of compensation? No?

  2. Ohhh, deep. And rather sinister. Does it also mean I fancy my bike, and want to kill it si I can marry my roller-skates??

    To be honest, not sure my subconscious is up to anything quite that complex and exotic. It's just sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep, oh, food! Nom nom sleep sleep sleep, etc.

  3. OUCHY! Mean laws of the universe. I do find that gravity one a bugger quite often. Hope you don't have too much road rash.