Green Goblins are hard to come by but there is one who rides round the roads to nowhere that are the Rhondda Valleys, he (or it) takes no notice of red lights, coppers, chavs and only stops to converse with his fellow gang members, The Conrads.

Stupid bugger goes all the way to tesco in the middle of Saturday night looking for lightsto find it more deserted than the motorcycle rank outside MVC and argos down the diff.  (nonexistent these days boo).  Bloody Sunday opening hours, no cans of skol in Edinburgh Sunday morning either, derr.  Men at work he is not, musician by trade, layabout by nature.

Things are looking up though, Black raffy cat shoots around keeping him going through thick tiger bread and not thin hugs, mmm.  Rallying wannabee green goblin has to be happy with pushbikes galore, old racing bikes with no brakes, rattly folding bike that changes gears on its own and his newest steed, a fast hybrid who’s name rhymes with Maud.  Forays into motorbiking didn’t go down well, he said “Well. you just sit on it and don’t really do anything.” The speed freak in him liked that bit but you can get the same effect going downhill on pushbike, water in the eyes everywhere too.

Where will green goblin end up next, hopefully somewhere more entertaining than tescos, how about globes for a warble butt you mad ead innit, hardy ha ha ha, boosh.