After a week of near-misses, the bastards finally got me.
OK, I exaggerate. But the brainless nerk who decided to cut time off his journey by turning right across one line of traffic and then stopping in front of it while hoping that someone would let him in deserves more than to have his front wing slightly dented by my front wheel and forks. I'll know the car in future, as it's the one with my boot marks just ahead of the driver's door.
It could have been worse - I came around the rear of a car turning left into the junction he was turning right from, and he simply didn't look. By the time he had deigned to notice me, he was already blocking the entire road, so I could only bra-a-a-ke. I thought I was going to end up spread-eagled across his bonnet, but I aimed for the wheel well, and I lost enough speed that my wheel and forks took most of the impact, and I did an impressive endo, managed to unclip and bounced back onto my heels, astride my bike. The only bodily impact was where I knocked my knee into my handlebars, and I don't expect any lasting damage, as it was pretty minor.
I landed, looked at the driver and shouted "you fucking wanker". He wound down his window and babbled something at me, but I was more concerned with checking I was alright, and getting off the road. I thought I was OK, and told him so, and he didn't hang around. I was expecting a mouthful of abuse, to be honest. While I was re-straightening my bars (that, and the slight inwardness of the brake lever from my death-grip braking seem to be the only effects), another driver stopped to offer himself as a witness, but since I was fine, and the bike is as good as it ever gets, I thanked him and decided to chalk it up to experience.
Of course, it all went wrong when I decided to change my routine by leaving work half an hour earlier and taking a different route. It'll be a slightly more sedate ride to work tomorrow.