I.Hate.Pedestrians.

I am not an angry person. I’m quite cheerful, even in the mornings. I don’t sulk, I don’t get irrationally angry – unless I drink too much gin - and I remain calm in stressful situations. There are only two things that truly peeve me off beyond control. They take hold of the frontal lobe of my brain and contort it into a manic and fizzing ball of anger and resentment:

Shit drivers and equally shit pedestrians

It’s the people who refuse to indicate, who change lanes like they are unaware that other cars happen to exist and pedestrians who walk the roads asking, no, pleading to be killed.
I thrash at my steering wheel, scratch at the dashboard like a rabid St. Hubert Bloodhound and yell profanities at these quite obviously stupid people who have no value for their lives or for the lives of those around them.

Actually I think there may be more than two things which I hate. I hate people on motorbikes, who roar pass you like their rear ends have been filled with left over Guy Fawkes crackers. They believe that it is them, with their flowing, oily locks and studded leather jackets who own the road.

Cyclists are equally as gut-wrenching especially when they insist on cycling in the centre of the lane and just saunter along, proud that this time they are going to beat their best of 30km per hour. You can’t over-take them, they are beacons of pain, injury or death which ultimately leads to a high-powered bike riding lawyer from Fresnaye, in his lumo skin-tight shorts with a bulging, sweaty muffin-top, suing the shit out of you because you accidentally knocked them off their flimsy R47.000, 168.2g carbon fibre chariot.

Behind-The-Wheel-Kayli is not a very kind person. So take this anger, multiply it by 100, and welcome to my world.

Imma kill you Bitch