This video link was sent to me recently – it reinforces my hatred of bike thieves, especially cunning ones:
Poor guy. Not the thief – but he has some chutzpah to ask for a ladder to remove the sign. All the more reason to lock your bike to a bike hoop. Notice how he does a ‘walk-by’ before he makes a decision to take the bike.
Hell’s 422nd level is reserved for bike thieves. Room 422/42 is the chain-cleaning hell, where a trillion Huffy Gila bikes that have been ridden through tar-pits and dairy cattle dung for an eon by a tribe of evil 130kg sprites with one leg 6 inches longer than the other, are sent to have their drivetrains cleaned. The chainbreakers in the toolbox are made out of plastic by Hasbro, and the toothbrush supplied has three bristles, and the solvent is rancid yak’s butter and skunk urine mixed with Jaegermeister. That should keep them busy for a while. As my grandma used to say: “The devil makes work for idle hands”. Rooms 43 and 44 are freewheel dismantling and servicing rooms, where the ceiling is a gigantic electromagnet. If you drop just one 1/8″ ball bearing, you are tipped back down a coarse-aggregate-floored chute to room 422/3 where the resident overdemon rubs salt into the newly-acquired gravel rash. No-one has got past Room 44 yet. They just keep on turning the magnet up.