The Secret diary of Adrian @Mo79, aged 13 and three quarters:
Monday 17th November
10:15 PM
I have just had enough of the BikeHub policy with dealer registration. They want me to pay as a dealer, and even though I now have 5 different profiles to jump through their hoops and avoid costs it is still just not fair on a small scale guy like me.
My blood is literally boiling. I checked my temperature with the cooking thermometer and it is 38 degrees, though that might be because I was leaning against the radiator.
I cannot let this stand. I have cracked my knuckles, poured myself a glass of Ribena (in a wine glass, to help me think), and I am preparing a thread post. I shall quote Orwell, Dickens, and perhaps a bit of Jean-Paul Sartre to really hammer the point home. These digital peasants do not realize who they are dealing with. I am not just a boy; I am a heavy-weight thinker in a dressing gown.
My mother shouted up the stairs to ask if I had washed my school socks. I told her to be quiet, as I am currently engaging in high-level discourse that could shape the future of cycling in the South Africa. She told me to "get a grip." She has no idea of the burden I carry.
tuesday 18th November
11:45 PM
I am exhausted. I have spent six hours waging war on the forum. I have neglected my algebra homework, and the dog has not been walked since yesterday.
The ignorance of the general public is staggering. I offered up my concise theory of why the BikeHub needs to look after the little guy and go for the big rich chops. I even brought in my NPS expertise but that did not deliver the hammer blow I expected. One chop poster replied with a picture of a cat looking confused and the acronym "TL;DR."
I had to look this up. It stands for "Too Long; Didn't Read." The irony of him using a semi-colon in the acronym seems to be lost on his tiny, insect-like brain.
I tried to point this out to the other forum members, but they have turned on me.One user told me I sound like "a right mood hoover." I explained that I am an existentialist, not a vacuum cleaner, but nobody seems to be listening. I am casting pearls before swine. My head is throbbing. I think I am developing a stress-induced ulcer.
Wednesday 19th November
4:15 PM
It is over. I am a broken man.
I checked the thread during my ICT lesson today, intending to deliver a final, crushing blow regarding the micro economic factors a play. Instead, since I found that not a single person agrees with me I figured there is no point arguing with idiots as they will just drag me down to their level.
I am burning with shame. I can feel the heat radiating off my ears. To be silenced by an intellectual inferior is a bitterness I would not wish on my worst enemy, not even Barry Kent. I know, in my heart of hearts, that I am right. Without the fair market practices, civilization slides into chaos. But the mob has won.
I am too frightened to even open the laptop. I am scared Hairy is out there, laughing at me, probably using nothing but commas and dashes like a barbarian. I have retreated to my bed. I have eaten three Kit-Kats in a row and I feel sick. I could use all my separate accounts to actually support my argument, but that would take a lot of thinking and that might be wasted on these roll mops.
The world is not ready for my genius.
