F*ck*n crazy

I was just about finished a run today at lunchtime in Glasgow and was heading back towards the office, when I passed a chap who was undoubtedly the worse for drink. It had been a great run - I felt good, it was a lovely spring day, and I felt at one with the world. "You're f*ck*n crazy jogging in this part of town", he told me, as he staggered from one side of the pavement to the other. I thanked him for his kind words and headed on my way. Each to their own, I guess.