I was invited to leave my car once in similar circumstances in London, after a close encounter with a hobbit-like Irishman on a pushbike. His exact words, as I recall, were "Come on then, ya wee English bastard, feart?" It turns out that he was not as hard as he thought he was. In fact, if his bike had a flux capacitor fitted he would now be somewhere back in 1955, the cunt was pedalling that fast!