On the way home I have one roundabout. I had to wait, then as I'm crossing, some f*ckwit bus driver starts inching across so in my calm and measured fashion I adopt banshee tones, glare, and screech at him (with no hope of being heard, or, given the highwayman buff, lip-read) 'no you fricking don't, twat face' only to hear fellow cyclist behind me snigger 'you tell him'.
I never see other cyclists, never. Where did he come from? He went the other way, but I was so shocked (and a leetle embarassed) I didn't get a chance to say hello.