it's great when you're straight.....yeah

it's a lovely autumn day in dear, old derbyshire, i have P.M.T, [post match tension, beaten yesterday by our local hated rivals. the red-dog forest bastards, in an ill-tempered local derby game that saw us down to ten men, our keeper save a penalty and the filth squeeze a goal against the run of play to secure the east midland bragging rights, our manager got sacked too, although i think he had taken us as far as he could have and i don't think he was the right man for the job, even though he was the son of old big 'ead, they shouldn't have done it on the day we got beat by the scum, my phone hasn't stopped ringing for the past day, the bastards giving it me, both barrel's, even the banjo playing extra from 'deliverance' or 'merv' the three fingered, sister- bothering, leicester bastard jumping on the bandwagon, chuckling like kim and aggie over a clean toilet bowl at our dismal run] only one thing to do, fire up the ducati and head off into outlaw country, over the border on a mission to disrupt the nott's bastards in their own back-yard, stealth like, [on a fucking bright red, carbon-piped, dry-clutched italian missile, note to self 'it's not very stealth-like daft lad'] on my way and i stop for fuel, a couple of rice rockets pull out at the same time and i can see matey boy giving it the 'wanker' sign to his mate as i glance in my mirror, it's a thirty limit and 'mr alpine stars' is revving the nuts off his japper and almost hiting me up the rear trying to goad me into biting, i resist, two cars in front, they pass me and the two cars, over a blind rise, double whites, road straightens and the old bill is standing in the middle of the road and pointing to the side of the road, i point at my chest and the copper just shakes his head and waves me through, who's the wanker now monkey boy?, 30 is 30, kids, old people, dangerous junctions, it's 30 for a reason, don't get me wrong, five minutes later, out past the 30 limit and i'm on it, not ridden these roads for a good few years, should have done, traffic is light, road surface good and a perfect day to ride, not too hot, fly's and airborne insects almost non-existent, out into sherwood forest, robin hood's own hunting ground, but, like mel brookes said, 'men in tight's?' down through the avenues of tree's, the autumn sunlight  is low and strong, shifting shadows, wind-blown leaves falling from the desidious tree's peppering my visor, the odd 'pop' as a horse chesnut or acorn says 'hello' as it falls from the gently swaying branches, out towards newark, cut back towards southall and back past the massive wind farm turbines on what 'cornerspeed's' nelly refers to as 'the test road' a flat out, rollercoaster of a road, no matter how fast you ride it, it leaves you thinking you should have gone faster, yeah, nottinghamshire, nice women, good roads, wank football team, guess you can't have it all, [unless you live in derbyshire.......]