Today, I was coming back from training BJJ at London Fight
Factory and I cycled around Old Street roundabout.
Waiting at the traffic lights, a milk float pulled up alongside me and, sat on the very back of the float, with his legs dangling over the edge, was a fat lad in a high-visibility jacket. In one hand, he had a kebab, on his lap was the polystyrene kebab container and, in the other hand, was a fag.
I never expected to see such a sight in the trendy, cutting-edge streets of the capital’s East End. He was also smiling incessantly.
The man is either a halfwit or a happy genius. I couldn’t tell which...
Waiting at the traffic lights, a milk float pulled up alongside me and, sat on the very back of the float, with his legs dangling over the edge, was a fat lad in a high-visibility jacket. In one hand, he had a kebab, on his lap was the polystyrene kebab container and, in the other hand, was a fag.
I never expected to see such a sight in the trendy, cutting-edge streets of the capital’s East End. He was also smiling incessantly.
The man is either a halfwit or a happy genius. I couldn’t tell which...
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