Urban joggers will be familiar with the sweaty, droplet-y, 2-metres-be-damned runner who charges straight down the middle of the pavement, forcing meek lady-joggers into the road.

One of these types went past me & another lady-jogger early this morning. My fellow lady-jogger was going at about 0.001 miles an hour & looked like a frail version of Miss Marple. If you were to play word association, & #39;defibrillator& #39; & & #39;wheelchair& #39; would come to mind.

Reader, she gladdened my heart by most unexpectedly shouting & #39;PISSHEAD& #39; at him.