Buggered Bicycle – An Account Of A Cycle Dive By My Dear Friend, Prof Reddish

Mother is dreadfully cross with me,
I broke my new bicycle.
We went to Worthing Pier –
such a marvellous day.
I came out of my bathing shelter in my new combination costume, and ego-ed shamelessly at lesser people.
I was a hit with the ladies, I can tell you. They cooed at my calves and marvelled at my clavicles. At least, I think that’s what they said.
Well, naturally, I rode off the pier. In daredevil Victorian style. With a moustache with which you could say ’embrocation’ and look really impressive.
Like you do.
Now the bicycle is broken, because
I landed on the largest recorded Turbot in history.
He is now dreadfully cross with me also.

(You wouldn’t believe the bloody cheek of the photographer – I had to hold still in mid-air while he took the blasted photo. Well, that’s what you get for having a sub-standard camera on stilts that comes with it’s own cloak.)