An Affront to Nature

Having just pumped 50 litres of diesel into my 1900cc, Turbocharged boomsmobile, I blazed away from the station, tossing a sixty euro note out of the window at the greasemonkey on the forecourt and started barrelling through the turns of the quiet country roads. I was vaguely aware that the potentially verdant hedgerows were a dull and listless grey-brown, drunk on dust and choking traffic fumes. A wiley hare scampered, just in time, from the path of my roaring whizz-machine as I two-wheeled it on a hairpin, suspension, tyres and joints complaining. Just then a sleepy-eyed and well-fed pigeon, fat on young barley and corn ears, reared up from the road ahead. He pounded the air with his stubby wings desperately vying for height. Go left! I thought. Go right! Get out of the damn way... In a feathery explosion, fatty the pigeon's quivering sphincter made a sticky kiss against my windscreen and his somersaulting little body tumbled and bounced into the road behind, mercilessly sacrificed to progress.

What an affront to nature we are - burning, howling death!