Bambi on a rampage. Bampage.

There are certain things you don’t expect to see while walking home after your first day back at work in a while. Waddling along a main road with all manner of vehicles rushing by on their (quicker) way to see loved ones, watch the gogglebox or eat microwave meals like I used to, striding manfully past all the other people WHO ARE SLOW AT WALKING, there are some things you expect to see.

One thing, for example, is an old person walking slower than everyone else. Even the really slow people.

Another thing is a group of foreign students from one of the English language schools in the area, walking in a big Pissmeoff Gang that doesn’t even think about moving to give you safe passage meaning you either have to glower or swallow your pride and walk the three steps on the road it takes to get past them.

A third thing, now I’m thinking, is someone who feels the need to drive really fast in their awesome car as if a) it makes any difference and b) it impresses anyone in any way, shape or form. It secretly impresses me, obviously.

A rogue fourth thing I expect to see is a local man I am weary of, because I’m weary of most local Bournemouthites. Especially the men. They all look like alcoholic rapists, and I have a purdy little mouth.

Anyway, the point: what I did not expect to see was a startled young deer hurtling through traffic, darting left and right and nearly getting itself killed a dozen times in the space of a few seconds. Naturally I went all Steve Irwin  (RIP) and tackled that mofo (I didn’t), saving its life (I don’t know if it died or not, it ran off around a corner) cos I’m well manly (I cried at Marley & Me).

Another thing I don’t expect to see on the walk home while Bambi is on a suicidal rampage is drivers not seeming to want to slow down or swerve to avoid a fucking baby deer. Seriously, I dislike people quite intensely.


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