As regular readers will have gleaned by now, I have reserved a special place of contempt in my black little heart for cyclists.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not making a blanket reference to everyone who cycles a bike, just those who think that two wheels good, four wheels bad and two legs . . . irrelevant.
I wrote about this situation before I took last week off and when I got back into the office the email box was electronically bulging with an interesting array of responses.
On the one hand, there were missives from motorists, pedestrians and even some cyclists bemoaning the behaviour of some of these people, while on the other hand, there was the usual hysterical whingeing from cyclists who seem to feel that they are some sort of persecuted ethnic minority.
And it made me wonder -- since when did cycling a bike mean you had become a member of some weird, humourless cult?
But the biscuit was well and truly taken last Friday when someone called Derek Peppard from something called the Dublin Cycling Campaign came up with a capital idea -- he wants to allow cyclists to break red lights and go the wrong way up a one-way street.
He says if they change the law "with the stroke of a pen . . . then suddenly this horrendous illegal behaviour by cyclists is now not illegal."
While he agreed that cyclists should not mount footpaths, he sympathised with those who feel too vulnerable to travel on the road.
Um, what about those of us who use the footpath to do crazy things like . . . walk on them?
Of course, that's just a typically selfish pedestrian's attitude, isn't it?
What are the bets that the first cyclist to go the wrong way up a one-way street would also be the first to sue a driver if he got hit by a car?
I don't F*%£ING believe them
You bastards. You utter, utter bastards.
I bet I don't even have to ask you who I'm referring to because it is, of course, Ulster Bank.
Like many workers in this country, I was due to get paid on Friday.
Seeing as we had just gone through a five-week pay period, that meant I had spent last week completely running on fumes and was simply counting down until payday.
So, when I went into the local pass machine on my way into work on Friday morning, I completely freaked out when I was informed there were insufficient funds.
Jesus, had I not been paid at all?
And then I remembered the Ulster Bank FUBAR.
So, through absolutely no fault of our own, tens of thousands of us will have spent a completely miserable bloody weekend devoid of cash because these clowns can't work their computer system properly.
Honestly, I didn't think we could hate bankers any more than we already do but then they went and did this to us, proving that they can never cease to amaze you with their greed, stupidity and, to add to the list, criminal incompetence.
Honestly, I felt like putting on a balaclava, going into my local branch and robbing the place -- of my own bloody money.
Although as a mate of mine pointed: "When Ulster says No, they really mean it, don't they?"
Yup, that makes sense
How many times have you gone on holiday and eaten something dodgy?
I remember trying to be adventurous in Mexico a few years back in one of the local restaurants and to say the results weren't pretty would be to do an injustice to the word 'understatement'.
For three days I basically wanted to die.
In fact I was convinced that I had contracted some hideous foreign disease that was melting me, in the most unpleasant way, from the inside out.
It was just food poisoning, of course, and happens to lots of people, but I'm part drama queen and part hypochondriac (not a good mix, trust me) and was convinced the angels were going to come and take me at any minute.
But if a new EU rule existed back then, I could have claimed those days as sick days in work and been given time off.
Yup, the brainiacs in Brussels have now decided that if someone falls ill while on their holliers, they can take the equivalent time off when they get back to work.
I'd like to see someone try that on Michael O'Leary: "Er, boss I had a dicky tummy when I was away and I was just wondering . . . no, boss please, please stop hitting me . . ."
What do two wrongs not make?
Okay class, here are two examples of how the world has gone completely potty.
First up comes the weird and wonderful case of 89-year-old John Richards from Lincolnshire, who has been threatened with arrest by the local plod.
The reason? He has a sign in his window which reads "religions are fairy tales for adults" and this has been classed as liable to "cause alarm or distress" to passers-by and he has to remove it.
It's a perfect example of complete stupidity and various atheist groups have said that this is an example of the persecution they face, which seems a slight overreaction, if I'm honest.
Then in Charleston, America, a local minister has been told that he isn't allowed to use the word 'Jesus' in a graduation service he has been asked to give.
So, a pensioner isn't allowed to have a sign in his own house, and a priest isn't allowed to say Jesus?
It really is a strange little world at times.
Back of the net!
There's no football tonight but at least we have one thing to look forward to -- Alan Partridge: Welcome To The Places Of My Life.
It's an hour-long documentary which sees one of the greatest comic characters of the last 20 years (pictured) invite viewers into his favourite places in Norwich; glamorous places like his local newsagent.
The preview looks great and it's Sky Atlantic tonight at nine.
Don't miss it.