An amazing parp

I'll blog of other events at a later stage but for the moment I'll tell you of the guy who, last night as I cycled home from Laura Marling (more on that later too), cracked out a stonkingly large fart as I zipped past him.
Hitler would have been proud of his timing. He must have seen me coming, done the quick calculations, decided I would be gone fast enough that he could let it go, let me hear it, smile to himself and I'd be peddled off into the night barely able to remember his face. Sneaky bastard. I wish it had been me. Anyway, if you are reading this, fartlord, I bow to your precision and think you should use your powers for good, not puerile enjoyment. Actually no, keep going the way you are, you talented sonovabitch.