There i was walking down Gt Sutton st to the bombproof metro stronghold. I had a £400 run in my hands which would take me all the way to the north of scotland. A cyclist came veering over from one side of the road to the other cutting accross me and almost crashed into some bins. I thought to myself not another hip fakenger on his trainer wheels. He appeared to be heavily intoxicated and was ranting about wing mirrors. As he passed under the light of the slaughtered lamb i caught a glimpse of the zine hipster himself.