You know them people.
You know, THEM?
Them what go to a barn door, open it wide, walk in, leave it wide open, then invite you in?
Then complain to the Farmer to berate you for coming in, whilst the Farmer's Wife is giving Johnny Rotten a bit of crumpet?
Them Bastards?
Them's who happen to be the Norman Bates Cyclepaths that previously stalked you and think that now I has V For Vendetta facial adornment that I am ripe for Adam Sutler persecution again?
Well, they're at it again.
Bursting into tears at having laid their own trap, fallen in it, and then having it pointed out.
Some people really need to get a life.
Or a sense of humour.
