Bicycle bullshit

Morning!

It’s ok, I’m back to normal.  No more poems or dark tales – although I have written a couple of raps that I’m considering putting up. They’re a bit graphic though. One’s called ‘Slut’ and the other’s called ‘Secret Slut’ – you can see the theme. Maybe when I can’t be bothered to write a blog I’ll show you.

Anyway.

So I’ve started cycling to work now I’ve moved. There are lots of positives to my new commute:

It’s quicker

It’s free

I can get up later

I don’t have to go to the gym

And I don’t have to interact with anyone.

The last one is my favourite.

However, even though it’s only been a week, I fear that I’m already developing ‘cyclist rage’. And, surprisingly, it’s not down to the usual array of cyclist complaints – buses, taxis, small children on scooters, inconsiderate trees, morons etc.

It’s other cyclists.

You see, there are several types of cyclist that I’ve noticed. I’m not entirely sure which one I fit into yet.

The bold and fearless

They’re the jocks of the cycling world. These people fly through red lights with reckless abandon, cutting up fellow cyclists in the process. They’re the type who complain about not being treated like a proper road user whilst flouting the Highway Code in the process. Basically cocks.

The deer in headlights

The opposite of ‘bold and fearless’. These people do not belong on the road. Everything is terrifying and they’re simply an obstacle that needs to be avoided.

The irresponsible parent

This is a very specific group that I only encounter while travelling through Chelsea and Fulham. The yummy-mummies decide to give the Range Rover a break and cycle the kids to school – nearly killing them in the process.

The dickheads

A fairly self-explanatory group. They have the arrogance of ‘the bold and fearless’ but none of the ability. The kind of people who still think it looks cool to cycle with no hands and ride a BMX. Seriously, a BMX…

I think I’m a combination of the first two. I’m quite bold and assertive. But I do tend to be screaming most of the time. And I still view arriving at home or work as a victory against death.

One day I won’t.

One day I’ll own the road and irresponsible parents will tremble at the very sound of my name.

The Bike King (it’s a working title).