Irking Me Off; #3 Bloke in High Heels

Bonjour you cunts [#PrayForParis], firstly let me apologise if you've been waiting for me to drop some literary gem, because this ain't it. I've got some shizzle [people still say that right?] I'm working on, but right this instant I'm in a bad mood, but I don't want to write about the thing that put me in a bad mood because I need to keep my job... at least until Christmas. So instead I'm writing about the last person to irk me; the bloke in high heels.

First and foremost, I'm just going to put it out there, I don't care about people cross-dressing, got no problem with it. We as humans have dedicated certain clothing items to certain genders, if a man wants to wear a skirt, it doesn't make him any less masculine, it's often funny as fuck, but I wouldn't think any less of him... because if he's brave enough to do that he'd probably knock my brittle frame in half.

Anyway, let's get to the fucking story...

I was walking to work the other morning at exactly 9.23am and my walks to and from work are always quite interesting. This is because from where I live is a shit-hole rife with unhappy married couples, students and drug addicts [that's me by the way], yet where I work is a rather upmarket, Tory voting [SCUMBAGS!!] area. For example; When I start my walk to work, I get the joy of seeing a man stealing clothes off a washing line on a Sunday morning. And when I'm five minutes from my house on a walk from work; I get the pleasure of seeing a group of junkies shooting up on a set of steps on a Thursday night [and yes those things actually happened].

And on the other hand; minutes after leaving work I pass a house with four cars on the drive [and none of them are up on bricks!]. And once before work I was in the local shop [that closes for a few hours midday, in this fucking day and age!] buying some Lucozade to power me through the onslaught of shit I was about to receive at work, and I was clearly second in the queue and while waiting an older middle-class lady [aka COFFIN-DODGING TORY CUNT] entered the shop, picked up her Daily Telegraph [aka FILTHY FUCKING TORY RAG!] and proceed to try and get served before me, but I'm a fucking gangsta... when it comes to retail etiquette... and I wasn't standing for any of that shit and she actually scoffed at me when I get served first... BITCH, I WAS SECOND IN THE QUENE BEFORE YOU EVEN STEPPED FOOT IN THE SHOP, YOU CUNT!

I kinda got rambling, but you get the point; I encounter a mix of people on my journeys to and from work, so on to the bloke in the high heels.

So once again; let's get to the fucking story...

I was walking to work the other morning at exactly 9.23am and I was almost at work, while descending quite a steep residential road coming up against me was the bloke in high heels [no homo]. When I walk to work I don't listen to music, just the noise around me and the thoughts in my head... and on this day; my thoughts were disturbed... and later on those disturbed thoughts were disrupted by the sound of high heels, yet when I glanced up from my iPhone expecting to see a female, I in fact saw a male!

I was slightly confused. Look, 9.23 am is not my “peak time”, I achieve my “peak time” after about four beers and two zoots, so if I'm working early; 7:45pm, working late; 1:30am, day off; ASAFP [the F stands for Fucking]. So, at 9.23am I'm usually feeling the effects of getting to and beyond the previous' day's “peak time”... what I'm trying to say is; I'm not too on-point. It takes a little time for things to register.

Although I'm slight be-puzzled, I glance at the man's footwear as he approaches me, maybe he's wearing some fancy winklepickers...
“They do look like high heels.” I think to myself, as my heavily bagged and still bloodshot eyes view the man's choice in foot attire.
I look away as he gets closer.
“Nah, he's not wearing high heels, you're seeing things you alcoholic stoner!” I think to myself. But I should have another look for conformation...
“Yep, he's wearing high heels! This man, is wearing high heels!”
Yet I still don't believe what I'm seeing, so I go for another look. And lone and behold this bloke is in high heels.

By this point the bloke in the high heels had noticed I taken notice to fact he was a bloke in high heels, and he shot me a dirty look... the kind of judgemental look a narrow minded individual would give to a bloke in high heels. But I'm not some narrow minded individual, yes I was giving the bloke in high heels a judgemental look and it was in part because of his choice of footwear but it has fuck all to do with any hatred towards his life style choice... it's all simply based around the fact he had his bicycle with him!

He was obviously pushing his bike... because he was in high heels! Who the fuck rides a bike in high heels, that's ridiculous! It's like this dude's seen the ending of Jurassic World and thought;
“Fuck it, if that bitch can outrun a T-Rex in high heels I can ride a bike in them!”
… but you can't, you twat! You was fucking pushing your bike, the fact of the matter is, if you were actually riding your bike, I wouldn't have noticed the clippity-clop of your heels sounding like a tap-dancer having a fucking seizure on stage! Which wouldn't have made my drug-addled mind constantly glance at your footwear, which in turn; wouldn't have got you thinking I was judging your lifestyle choice... which I totally wasn't, you cross-dressing twat!

The End.