Tag Archives: bike

They stole bike, they stole my shoes.


I come to you with extremely sad news.  My bike, my lovely shiny new bike has been stolen.  It happened a couple of weeks ago but I’ve been too upset to tell you about it.  I popped for a couple Whiskey Sours with Gem Dog and Jimbo, came out and it’d gone.  Just wandered up and down for a bit on Mare St.  Not quite sure why.   I wasn’t sure what you’re supposed to do when someone nicks your stuff.

I’ve only ever had one other meaningful possession stolen from me before this.  They were a pair of black suede Air Jordan high tops when I was about 12.  I had them at the back end of my spiffy jeans phase in about 1995, I loved them.  They made me look like a right cool mother.

They were the one of the things that in hindsight I feel quite guilty about even having owned; no not because they’re absolute rascals!  My folks never had much money when we were growing up and I pestered my Mum for weeks to get them, probably making her feel really guilty and generally being prepubescent little shit to get my way.  Mum told me that if my Dad asked how much they cost I had to tell him they were on sale and were £30.  He did ask, I told him they were £30, he wasn’t happy, he argued with my Mum.  They were actually £60.

I’ve been thinking about stuff like that alot recently.  I’m sure I was no worse than any other teenager wanting what the other kids had, but now when I really understand the value of money it makes me cringe thinking about what a strain I must’ve put on my parents.

My Dad worked 12 hour shifts as a mechanic and would get up to do private work after 5 hours sleep pretty much everyday.  Mum worked as a dinner lady and done some cleaning when we were young for the extra cash.  £60 was probably a weeks food shopping for the five of us.

I never realised what a big deal a pair of £60 trainers would be for us back then.  I remember her craftily colouring in the scuff marks on the toes with a black marker pen when I came in from playing football in them one day.  She’d always give them a once over with the suede brush when I took them off and they must’ve had about 4 cans of suede proofer used on them in their short life.  All delaying tactics for the next instalment of bitching and whining and another £60 we couldn’t really afford.

Then one day on the way home from school some bigger boys from one of the rough estates stopped me and my mate and demanded our shoes.  We’d heard about some kids from the other secondary school having their shoes nicked but just thought it was one of those bullshit stories like getting your head flushed down the toilet or that film where the woman gets shagged by a horse and licked out by a cow.

So yeah.  They gave me a punch in the side of the head (made my ear bleed) and took my trainers.  It had been raining and I remember people in cars slowing down to look at the chubby ginger kid crying and pulling his soggy socks up at the side of the road.  All I could think about was my Mum meticulously colouring in the scuff marks and how up-set she would be if she found out I they had been stolen.

I recall walking in the back door of the house, my wet socks slapping against the vinyl flooring.  I walked straight up to my room, lay face down on my bed and cried for about an hour.

I never told my Mum about what happened to those trainers.  I told her that I left them somewhere.  She shouted at me, probably thinking I had chucked them as I didn’t want them any-more.  I cried again.

When I told Mum about my bike she offered to give me some money for a new one.  I am 27 and have a vaguely professional career.  I’m still her little soldier.  When I put the phone down I thought about my Mum and my Nike Air Jordan’s.

I love my Mum.

I did a similar thing after walking home from having my bike stolen, walked through the front door, lay face down on my bed and cried.

HA!  I didn’t really!  Me!? Cry!? Don’t be a prick.  I drank half a bottle of brandy and watched Babestation.

RnR.

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Filed under Comedy, Funny

Hackney Fashion – Part 2: The Bicycle


A good place to find Hackneyites on a Saturday is at a bike shop.  Not all Mockney’s love bicycles in the same way, there is some diversity.
 
First up, we have the younger urban folks who absolutely love their fixed gear bicycles. These are seen all over BikesHackney.  Fixed gear bicycles meet a lot of requirements for the twat acceptance. They can be made from older (i.e. vintage) bicycles, thus allowing the rider to have a unique bike that is unlikely to be ridden by anyone else in town. They are also easily customizable with expensive things, such as coloured wheels and teeny tiny handle bars.  The combination of rare bicycles and expensive parts makes it easy for the idiots to judge other idiots on the quality and originality of their bicycles. This is important in determining if someone is or isn’t cooler than you.
 
There is a special category of bicycles that appeal far more to the tarts.  The Dutchie.  Birds now days have a lot of fantaBroadway Bikesies about idealized lives, and one of them is living in another European country and riding around an old city on one of these bikes. They dream about waking up and riding to a little cafe, then visiting bakeries and cheese shops.  To get the full effect of this lifestyle, they do of course have to spend hours matching clothes and even make-up to complement their bicycle before leaving the house.  Should they stock up on bread and cheese they also require a very handy little basket for carrying such produce. 

 

 Of course, you would assume that the plums ride their bicycles to save the Earth, but apparently not all Hackneyites cycle to be “green”. A well put together bike can be an essential part of a the fashion ensemble, allowing for all-important differentiation from the other graphic designers wearing the exact same clothes as them. Thus allowing them to be picked out of the crowd for dating or mocking purposes.

“I like the guy in the checked shirt with the glasses.”

“Which one? there are eight.”

“The guy with pink rear wheel.” 

“Oh yeah, you’re right. ”

 “He is cute and he pretends to be sensitive about the environment.  He’s can’t be totally self absorbed.  He’s probably more sensitive in general. You should probably shag him.”

Bikey!

RnR

 

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Filed under fashion, Funny, Hackney Uniform, Piss take