So here’s the thing, half the world knows about the saga of the fecker(s) who stole me bicycle a good few weeks ago and the other half of the world who don’t, were caught up with Donald Trump watching and worrying how high the Mexican pole vault and the fosberry flop teams could jump during the Olympics.
Well, I sitting in the Library working on the edits for the next book in the series The Adventures of Doc Higgins, ‘Time Beyond Here’. I’m working on the piece where back in 1530’s the Archbishop of Canterbury asks the Doc to say a few words at a funeral and in the Doc’s usual style, he steps up and over the body he says “In the name of the father, the son and into the hole he goes”
Just then, I look out the window and I see me new bicycle (the one Joey had the fundraiser for and shipped all the way to me from Ireland) on the feckin ground. How did that happen I ask me self? It still had my new ‘leave me bike alone lock’ as in the photo.
So, I shout down my computer and got ready to head for home. You are not going to believe this, some feckin bastard(s) stole the feckin saddle off me bicycle, YES the feckin saddle. I had to cycle home as if my arse was on fire and I was anxious to see what was over the next hill. Not to think what was going to happen if I tried to sit down. I looked like one of the hobes’ on 5 years old kids bike. The only thing I was missing was a baseball cap hanging off the side of me head and me underpants on display.
Where do I go from here, I ask me self?
Me feckin bicycle saddle gone – I could understand if this was in the 1800’s, went one could go out into the wilderness and find a feckin horse to but a saddle on, but come on, its 2016.
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