Monday, August 9, 2010

The unbearable rightness of being the bearer of the GPS

Now this is what I call a run! Notice the cunningly coincidental in and out trails; the deftly avoided track at the northern edge of the run, the considerate length (after all guys, some of us are pushing 58 and 4.367k is about all we are up to after an unsuccessful night trying to pull pussy in the Yes Bar and being rejected by girls old enough to be our grandchildren). And for those doubting Bartholomews and Johannes who thought that it had been "at least 7k", Mr Google's naggingly accurate scale is there to disabuse you of your post-climactic illusions. Get used to it buddy: this is the future!

3 comments:

  1. He's right you know!

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  2. In case you were referring to me, I am not 'pushing 58', nor was I trying to pull pussy at the Yes. And what do you mean, that's what you call a run? What was Sunday's, chopped liver?

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