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Get me! I’m Miss Marple!


This is my big birthday present, though of course I can’t play with it yet. It’s exactly what I wanted. Poor Uncle B was mightily confused when I sent him out to find me the funkiest old Raleigh three-speed touring bike in the county.

“But it’s all rusty, Weasel!” he wailed.


It’s probably one of the last Raleighs built in England (look! They’re pretending “Nottingham” is a real place. Hee hee! Those zany Brits; they never break character). I had a bike just like it years ago, until some toe-rag stole it. I loved that bike. I’ll get this one all cleaned up (did you know a ball of crumpled aluminiumnum foil makes a fabulous chrome de-ruster?) and ride into market every day.

The wicker basket is a nice touch, don’t you think? Now all I need is one of those little bells, so I can go, “chi-ching, chi-ching! Get the fuck out of the fucking road, you stupid fucking limey dick-hole!”

May 7, 2008 — 6:00 am
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