This is a family friendly blog - well mostly, anyway. But how do we keep it tidy when we ourselves are victim to abuse? You'd think that a group of a dozen rugged mountain bikers would be safe on the sunny slopes of Table Mountain in the mornings. I thought so. Especially from a chunky middle-aged woman. Allow me to clarify: we're zwooping (its like swooping, just faster) down the mountain a few weeks back when we hit a steep descent on a jeep track. And thats when we first spotted her. She had carefully removed herself out our path - and I don't think she landed that hard either - when her 120kg boerbul must've taken offence to the dust and stones we were kicking up. Why the canine beast selected Two Tone as its target, no-one knows. But I was witness to the great beast lunge forward and bite Two Tone's foot. It all happened so quickly but I do recall Two Tone yelling some profanities at the top of his voice! Those foul words are still etched in my mind.....
Off course we pulled over to inspect the damage that the beast had wrought on Two Tones foot. The saliva of the giant hound coated the cycling shoe, providing a temporary and slippery insulation to the holes that the beast had ripped into the shoe. I thought Two Tone handled this all very well. After slipping the wet shoe back on over the ripped sock, Tony peered up the track for the savage creature and its negligent owner. During our makeshift medical inspection of the damage to Two Tone and his two tears near his toes, the chunky middle aged women had conveniently slipped off like a thief in the night. "Lets go and f#cking get her!" he yelled as he mounted his bike. He had put about 200 metres between us when eventually three of us decided that it would be best to be present when the inevitable confrontation would occur between Two Tone and the chunky middle aged woman and her beast further up the track. We too mounted and headed up the track.
Being of a more conciliatory nature, I had the feeling things had gotten off to a wrong start between Two Tone and the chunky middle aged woman when the swearing started. All had started well though. Your dog bit me, Two Tone had said. Was there blood and don't you think it needs treatment, she had asked. Tony had confirmed that this would be the case but then there was the question of the torn shoe. The mangled shoe. The shoe that was ruined by her heinous beast. When the chunky middle aged woman looked resignedly at Two Tone and said "now I think you're being a little bit opportunistic, don't you?" that I knew negotiations had died. Not faltered or wavered - but died. And quickly.
I again refer to the family-orientated nature of this innocent blog and shudder to think what younger readers would think if I told them that Two Tone had called her a f*ckingBitchSlagWhore. The FBSW word. Like the K-word; but so much worse! Well, the chunky middle aged woman gave as good as she got! Apart from her dog not being leashed (strike 1); under control (strike 2); her fleeing a crime scene (strike 3); she opened up with a verbal volley of her own! Because Two Tone is originally English, his accent is a dead give away. So she played the xenophobic attack card! Seriously. "Why don't you just f*ck off back to England?" she retorted to the FBSW insult. We three bystanders nodding approvingly at this, especially after Two Tone's pre-emptive FBSW strike. I sensed Two Tone was on the back foot and he then let rip with a second round of the FBSW abuse. Admittedly it had lost the edge of the first attack - but was still offensive because by now the middle aged chunky woman had made her way back down the mountain....
So no phone numbers were exchanged. It was a lose-lose situation. So from our side we wish to tell that chunky middle aged women: if you venture onto the mountain again, be aware that Two Tone has been practising. Never again will he be so embarrassed by running out of verbal abuse variety. Whilst FBSW is certainly neither condoned nor gentlemanly, Two Tone assures us that he will never again be forced to use the same profanity twice in the same argument.
Every time he feels the breeze on his foot through the opening gashes in the cycle shoe, he runs through his script, hoping to see her on the horizon.
