tell me when my light turn's green

i really do not like bad manners, [no, not the eighties skinhead / ska /scooter scum band, i rather like them actually, especially 'walking on sunshine' reminds me of so many rainy, bank holiday mondays....] no, i mean bad manners, rudeness and a lack of respect. you see it everyday on the streets, people just lobbing mcdonalds wrappers out of their car window's, leaving dog shit for someone to step in, [pick it up and bin it you morons] chewing gum stuck to the pavements and smokers crowding around the entrance to a hospital / shop / football ground, inhaling deeply on their tar soaked cancer stick and blowing noxious fumes out over everyone, don't give it the 'it's my right to smoke' bollocks, poison yourselves and your fellow smokers, your children and partners but, fuck off out of my face with it!
      same with driving, i had a couple of days annual leave recently, i went to pick up my boy jack from work as his car was in for some work. bloke pulls out straight in front of me, i brake, shrug my shoulders and he takes offence at it, he's lost it, giving it the big-one, making cut-throat gestures and i can tell he's pretty pissed off, i shrug again, this seems to inflame him even further. i back off to let him go his way, that's really fucked him off, he slows, jabbing on his brakes and swerving in front of me, finally he anchors up in front of me and he's out of the car, throwing his expensive sun glasses onto the road with a flourish. i estimate him to be mid-twenties, puffa-jacket and he's shouting at me that 'i'm gonna beat you up bad man, what you shruggin' at man, i'm gonna hurt you bad fucker!' oh dear, i think he's annoyed,  i get out of the car and he's threatening to kill me. his girlfriend / wife / partner isn't helping the situation, she's shrieking 'get in the car gary, get in the car gary, get in the car gary' he's lost it, he feint's to punch, i don't move, he's six feet away from me, the typical action of someone who doesn't actually want to fight. i let him carry on his abuse. he's in too deep now, he can't back down, his adrenaline has carried him over the edge and he's realised that he really, really doesn't want to go through with this. i offer him a way out, i tread on his expensive sunglasses and smash them, 'pull over to the left matey, down there where no-one can see' that's all he needed, a way out, he get's back into his car and with a final shout of 'fuck you!!!' he's gone, the art of fighting without fighting i suppose.
     so, what's all this got to do with the peaky blinder ducati project? well, three months ago i ordered a carbon fibre seat unit from a well known sheffield based outfit, i chased my order up yesterday, 'hi, just wondering what the progress was with my seat unit? i told them i had a trackday booked for the ninth of march, 'well, you won't be sitting on our seat!' squeeze me? baking powder, what happened to customer service? the twat on the end of the phone told me 'it's not really worth our while producing these seat's as they are labour intensive' what the fuck! he's had my one hundred and sixty quid sitting in his arse pocket for twelve weeks and it's not worth his time? keep watching fight fan's, this ones got 'classic' written all over it.........