Bumps and Bans

It's fair to say I've had a fairly eventful four months, not necessarily in a good way either. Those of you who know me, and I think you all do, seem to revel in my repeated mishaps. Good for you, I'm glad you can find some pleasure in my misfortune, it's what I live for. Have another helping courtesy of me.

This summers' tale of tribulation began back in May with a bit of gentle vacuuming, I'm a bit of a clean freak as all virgos tend to be, so what better way to spend the day before a canoeing trip than to give the stairs a once over with Henry the endlessly smiling sucking device. I vaguely remember getting about two steps from the top, then nothing but blackness. I woke up at the bottom of the stairs with a sore head, a battered left wrist and Henry desperately trying to extract my balls into his greedy little dust bag. I recovered from these injuries physically, if not psychologically (damn you Henry, you'll haunt my stickiest dreams forevermore) in a matter of a few weeks, but it was a major pain in the arse to not be able to play the guitar for a month. Driving was fun too, I found out I didn't have the strength in my wrist to get the car in reverse until I was parked up against a wall. The people didn't stare too much at the funny man crying in the car though.

I was just about better a month later though, just in time for a trip to Corwall to go surfing, YES! Jan-ys and I were cruising down the A30 and I was playing a new fabulous game I invented called "Shave two minutes off the Sat-Nav destination time by driving like a fucking loonatic". Needless to say, PC Twattybollocks wasn't nearly as impressed with my time saving technique as me when he pulled me over doing 111mph. I took the lecture and somehow resisted the temptation to ask him why he had his cock out when he told me the conversation was being recorded in the car as evidence. The magnitude of being faced with a driving ban when I drive for a living was quite intense. Ever the optimist though I thought he might lose the form, forget to submit it, take pity on me because I was cute looking or maybe he'd bleed to death in a freak bumming accident with a 6ft black man called Tyrone (Don't just dismiss it, it could happen)… But no, he was ever the efficient do-gooder and had me up in court on the 6^th of August. I'm not condoning what I did, speeding is a very serious matter and all that shit, but the Magistrates at Liskeard looked at me like I'd violated their inbreed children. Mr Hudson you are a despicable man and we hate you, you will be banned from driving for 21 days, do you understand what this means? Erm… Let me think about that, erm…that I can't drive for 21 days? Is that the right answer? Did I win!?

Fortunately for me, my work let me take annual leave for the disqualification period and I was bound to my recently and intuitively purchased bicycle for the duration. No biggie I thought, get fit, save some cash and play the guitar for three weeks. Unfortunately the driver of a Skoda Fellatio had other ideas when he decided to pull out in front of me while I was merrily cycling along in a dream world with my headphones on. He looked straight at me it seems and thought, 'All clear, just a completely obvious 6ft surfer type cyclist wearing day-glow clothing and a silly hat, so I'll pull out now'. I didn't have time to ditch my fag and grab the brake, so I turned the wheel into the curb and began a slow motion superman impression over the bars. My natural instinct to protect most of my vital limbs by landing on my head came to the rescue yet again, accompanied by a cry of 'HOLY FUUU… CRASH!'. Needless to say I knocked myself into enough of a daze to give the Skoda driver a wave and a dopy smile as he drove away rather speedily.

Since this incident I'm less enthusiastic about cycling places, purely for my own wellbeing. Tonight as I write this though, I have 58 minutes of my driving ban left. I'm going to get ready now and stand in front of the garage door for the final countdown. 5…4…3…2… Vroom.