According to journalist and former Conservative politician Matthew Parris the answer is cyclists. In this article published in the Times on Thursday he suggests decapitating cyclists by stringing piano wire across country lanes.
I quite like Matthew Parris whenever he's on the BBC TV series Grumpy Old Men, but for some strange reason I've now gone completely off him.
Remember my post about the unicycle I saw on my commute? Well, it seems unicyclists are also taking to the streets of Manhattan.
One word. Mad.
I know a lot of cyclists lust after bikes, but this story -- from tonight's thelondonpaper -- about a Scotsman, is simply ridiculous:
A man caught trying to have sex with his bicycle was given three years' probation and placed on the Sex Offenders Register. Robert Stewart, 51, was convicted of sexually aggravated breach of the peace after cleaners at his hostel in Ayr found him half naked and simulating sex with the bike. Sheriff Colin Miller told him: "I thought I had come across every perversion known to mankind but... I have never heard of a 'cycle-sexualist'." Stewart had blamed a misunderstanding caused by drink.
Which begs the question, how many pints would you need to have consumed before thinking it might be a good idea to shag your bike?
I'm not normally someone who honks their own horn, as it were, but I got a mention in Typepad's newsletter and blog last week in a post headed Typepad Tours London. As a consequence the number of visitors to this site has trebled, and I've been shamed into actually updating it after a two-week hiatus. How typical.
So, if you're a new visitor, bear in mind I do a lot of ranting here. Cycling in London is nowhere near as dangerous as you might believe, although the way I bang on about the idiots on the road you might be forgiven for thinking otherwise!
I first started cycling in August 2005 -- you can read my first post here -- and I haven't looked back since.
I don't propose to be an expert cyclist or even a dedicated one (I only cycle to work two or three times a week, I blame my lazy gene and inability to get out of bed in the morning), but it has revolutionised my life. I feel fitter, happier, less stressed and more toned. And I no longer have to find time to go to the gym.
If you're here because you're considering becoming a commuter, give it a bash, I'm sure you won't regret it!
Okay, so this blog is supposed to be about cycling in London, but I couldn't resist posting this picture taken on my recent holiday to the island of Ischia, in the Bay of Naples.
There were bikes everywhere, albeit a lot of crappy rusty things (for the adults) and a helluva lot of pink shiny things (for the little girls), but it was nice to see people using them to get around.
Mind you, the way those crazy Italians drive, I'm not sure I'd be brave enough to take to the road on a bike. Not even the motorised variety.
Dave at Dave Moulton's Bike Blog has tagged me as part of a meme in which I'm supposed to reveal five facts about myself. Let's see if I can keep them all to a bike theme...
1. I first learnt to ride a bike when I was 8 years old. Given that I lived in a rural area and went to school with kids who rode bikes before they could walk, this was a relatively late age to learn to ride a bike.
2. I was taught to ride a bike by my best friend's older sister. There were no training wheels, no gentle lessons. I was simply pushed around and around until I could do it without anyone holding me up. I remember falling off -- a lot. I don't, however, remember crying. I think I was so determined I was going to ride a bike that I didn't give a toss if I killed myself in the process!
3. My first bike was "loaned" to me by the girl who taught me to ride. It was an old red thing that she used to ride when rounding up the cows on the family's dairy farm! It was rusty but it was reliable. And once I'd mastered the art of staying upright while turning the pedals I was officially "gifted" the bike. I rather suspect that kind of generosity would be unheard of today.
4. I got my first proper bike from Santa the same year I learnt to ride. It had big dragster-type handlebars with purple and white streamers coming out of the hand grips! The bike was purple. The seat was white. I loved it.
5. I used to stick bits of cardboard in the spokes so that they would rub against the tyres and create a sound which, to an eight-year-old's ears at least, resembled a motorbike. Don't laugh. Every kid I ever knew did this too -- it was so much more "professional" than simply making the noise with your mouth.
I am supposed to tag five other people to run with this meme, but I'm not going to do that. However, if you're that way inclined please feel free to give it a whirl...
As part of the Tour de France celebrations here in London, the Design Museum on Shad Thames is organising a free event on Sunday at 1pm entitled I love my bicycle because...
The idea is that you take your bike to the museum and confess your undying love for your trusty stead. According to the museum, all the contributions will be filmed to "form a unique archive of memories, appraisals and passions".
If I participated -- and I won't, because I'm shy (!) -- I would say I loved my bike because it gives me freedom from the crowded public transport system, keeps me fit, helps reduce my stress levels and makes me feel truly alive.
What would you say?
This banner was produced using a programme dubbed "spell with flickr". I think it's ingenious!
I hobbled into work today, limping every step of the way. Do you know how painful it is to go up and down stairs when your ankle is bruised and your shin is cut and your knee is bandaged? London is full of stairs. Tube stations, bridges, buildings.
And then there's the doors. My upper body -- particularly my right side -- is so stiff and sore I struggled to push open heavy glass doors without wincing. Unfortunately, my office is full of the bloody things: if I so much as want to get a coffee from the staff restaurant I have to push through about six doors. If I want to go to the wash room I've got to force my way through about ten! No wonder I decided it might just be less painful to sit at my desk and not move at all. Except not moving means that when I do decide to move my arms and legs feel stiffer than ever.
I hope things are easier tomorrow.
And you thought your commute was rough!
My sister sent me these pictures today as part of a "round robin" email. I've got a feeling I've seen them before somewhere...
... but I still think they're wonderful.
PS> Does anyone know the story behind these photographs? I'd love to know who these chaps are -- and the name of the location.
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