twats in lycra
First of all, I like bikes - I mountain bike (less since I broke the same shoulder twice in a year), I grew up BMXing and I'd love to take summer off work and cycle all over the UK on historic routes like the Fosse Way. Oh, and I am just about to buy a second bike to get to the station on, as I am buggered if I am leaving a bike that costs more than my car for pikey scum to steal/vandalise/look at in a funy manner.

I say that, so that I am not just branded another Jeremy Clarkson (although I *want* his job - I can donut a Lambo whilst shouting "Power, Power , Power" jsut as well as he can). But, and this is the thing...I absolutely hate cyclists in London. I'd happily take a crossbow and pin every one of the bastards to the tarmac. Why?

It's easy - because they aren't powered by pedals, they are powered by their own sense of smugness and arrogance. You either get the ex-Greenham Common wannabe hippy creaking along on some piece of crap with a basket at 2mph, whilst weaving across the entire road, or you get the ponce in Lycra who approaches a red light and crowded crossing at 20mph and swears when the pedestrians don't throw themselves out of his way. Believe me, pal, your time is not more valuable than mine - I don't pedal a fucking bike for a living, for a start - you're a pizza-delivery monkey with delusions of grandeur.

Don't even get me started on Buses or the wankers of the London Underground....grrrr.
(Chance, Tue 6 May 2008, 14:54, Reply)