Cycling home tonight, and as occasionally happens, some aunty in a Merc A3 in oncoming traffic took a chance and cut in front of me at an intersection. She was far enough ahead that my life wasn't endangered but I had to brake pretty hard regardless.
I shook my head and prepared to air my usual tepid admonishment, but at that moment, as if the Lord Himself, having grown bored of feeding on the souls of unbaptised babies, had happened to lean over the arm of His throne in the clouds, and looked down, and had felt compelled to weigh in on matters, and a huge bellow was let forth right next to me: F*****G W****R!!!
Not the Lord, and not directed at me, thankfully, just another cyclist who'd come up pretty fast and came a lot closer to pranging into the Merc. Not the kind of insult I'd generally hurl at a woman, but so loud and unequivocal the sentiment, that the best contribution I could have made at that point was an approving 'yeah!', which would have detracted from the moment, I felt, and instead I said nothing and cycled on.
I caught up to the cyclist at the next traffic light, and before he turned off I was tempted to say 'well said', but I saw he had red hair, and a beard, and I was sort of scared he'd turn to me and say 'You're Welcome, My Son', as he rode away, leaving behind the waft of baby souls.