Cyclists and Petrolheads don’t mix

Dear Jeremy Clarkson,

Is the strain of earning too much money and living in the Cotswolds going to your head, Mr Clarkson? Or are you simply coming unglued? In your Sunday Times column devoted to promoting the motorcar, you recently told your adherents that one of your favourite cities is Copenhagen.
Aside from the fact that you enjoy looking at the bottoms of pretty Danish girls, you wrote, “...there are no bloody cars cluttering up the place.” I bet the car manufactures who provide you with gassed-up models for you to test and review nearly swallowed their cheque books.
Your obviously split personality caused you to reveal that, whereas you’re okay about bikes in Denmark, you are not okay about bikes in the UK, and especially not in London. You write, “I am constantly irritated by cyclists, as I am sure they are by me”.
WRONG, dopey! Cyclists aren’t irritated by any normal motorist. But they are afraid of some motorists, Mr Clarkson. Afraid that ‘irritated‘ motorists like you have a tendency to drive like pathological sows protecting piglets. (Now that you live in our bucolic hinterland, can I presume you are aware of the behaviour of fat pigs?) Yes, an irritated motorist, armed with his steed of steel, protected from harm by seat belts and airbags, is a cowardly and dangerous breed.
And thanks to people like you, these lunatics think they have right on their side, That because they pay road tax, they have the right to hard-shoulder other road users to one side, sometimes with fatal results.
You are a heavily-leaded petrolhead, Mr Clarkson. Probably one of the purist around. Why? Because you have curly hair - rather like a pig’s tail. Your hair follicles are bent. Follicles secrete oil onto our scalps. Because yours are bent, by the time your oil has negotiated the bends, it’s hotter than it should be. In fact because you get so steamed up, or one degree hotter than irritated, by cyclists in London, you, by a self-created oil refining process, end up with high-octane fuel swilling around your curly bonce.
This greasy phenomenon may be good for your hair but it’s doing your mentality no good whatsoever. This is why you drive around emitting high-pitched piggy-squeals telling cyclists, caravaners and other normal road users to ‘get out of the way’.
Get your follicles fixed, Mr Clarkson. Your irritation will disappear and you might become inclined to notice and appreciate the bottoms on pretty English girls.