I Want To Ride My Bicycle

Actually, the title of this post's a little misleading and the image for that matter. I don't want to ride my bicycle, I don't care how many fat-bottomed ladies are coming my way, plus this doesn't have much to do with Oregon. Still you'll get the point.

I've got a bit of a bone to pick with cyclists (well at least the ones who ride around Central London anyway). Their oh so 'holier than thou' approach to navigating the streets of the city is, quite frankly, getting on my tit ends!!!

They grumble about the treatment they get from road traffic and yes, I sympathise. It must be difficult in a city that's choc-a-bloc with vehicles, veering to and fro as if in a desperate attempt to prove chaos theory once and for all.

The trouble is, they undermine any sympathetic impulse by treating pedestrians like the scum at the bottom of the garden pond, the lowest dregs of life, propping up the transportation ecosystem with their tired little legs, too unevolved to contemplate anything as 'fantastical' as a bike.

This morning, as I and my many nameless commuter counterparts exited Cannon Street Station and attempted to cross the road, a female cyclist came speeding along (quite literally I think - she must have been doing over 30mph!) ringing her bell incessantly and shouting, "Get the fuck out the road!"

Now call me forgetful, but I don't remember that kind of behaviour being allowed in the cycling proficiency test! In fact, my mates and I were constantly being chastised for the merest hint of a skid - the signature of teenagers on their BMX's in my day. The examiner would have hit the roof had he heard that kind of language.

Anyway, the point is that I've often seen cyclists behaving just as badly if not worse than their supposed predators on 4 wheels.

I'm sure many adhere diligently to the appropriate etiquette but quite frankly you people are being let down. Any more of this nonsense and expect a pole through your spokes.