WHERES MY RAIN

It took me nearly an hour to get home today. Thats right, I said nearly an hour. I usually ride my super lovely motorbike and the trip is only about 20 minutes, but like an idiot I listened to those useless, gormless weather forecasters on the BBC and yesterday they said today would be a washout. Its my fault for trusting them. The night before last they said it was going to be very cold yesterday so I wore my thermals under my bike gear and as usual the soppy donuts got it wrong. I ended up sweating like a kiddie fiddler at a childrens party. It did rain a little bit today. I was coastal this morning and it drizzled for a few minutes mid morning. People moan about footballers earning too much, and when I say people I mean me, but right now, after taking nearly an hour to get home I think those incompetent morons who give us the weather are stealing money by accepting their salaries. Dont get me wrong, I love my car, its a nice car and some mornings after a shower and a PW (ask me later) its nice to just jump in the car, turn on the heated seats and smooth my way to work. However, coming home is a different matter and I much prefer my bike, so I can rush home and have another PW (I will explain later). Much to my chagrin, the news headlines were not about the disengenuous way the weather is reported, nor was it about Spurs and Man Utd losing, all the furore was about that tosser of a dinosaur Jeremy dickhead blabbermouth Clarkson. He made a comment about shooting striking protesters. He said "Shoot striking protesters". He actually said this whilst holding a copy of his new book which comes out in time for all you Sun readers to buy for christmas. He only ever gets asked to be on telly when he has a book or a dvd coming out and he has never failed to say something stupid or offensive in order to promote sales. Maybe I should go on telly naked and shout fukkedityfukfuk to promote my books, but I hope my books will be bought by people who can read without moving their lips so maybe I won't. Anyway, I am still miffed that it took me nearly an hour to get home and I cant decide whether to give those forecasters one last chance. If I do, and they get it wrong again, I may have to tie them all up, lock them in a room, and pay someone to read out loud, all of Clarksons books over and over again. How cruel would that be. Oh and finally, a PW is ........