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write thus
"After Wednesday’s Tube strike, most Londoners will have decided again
that the only solution is a bicycle. But there’s a dark side to
cycling in the city. Since I bought my first bike a year or so ago I
have been astonished by the outbursts of spittle-flecked fury
pedestrians unleash upon cyclists. Any minor deviation from the letter
of the law — a quick pedal on the pavement, a whizz through Hyde Park
— induces instant Tourette’s syndrome in passers-by: ‘You stupid
f—–ing cow! Get off your f—–ing bike!’ etc., etc., followed by a
furious rant about how, literally, lethal bicycles are. Last week I
crept cautiously through a red light on Oxford Street, craning left
and right to make sure the coast was clear — no traffic, no pregnant
shoppers, no old ladies pushing tartan wheelie-bags. I had, however,
been spotted. About 15 feet further on, a man stepped into the road in
front of me and shouted, ‘C—–, I saw you! C—–!’ ‘What’s wrong with
you? Why do you care?’ I asked, hopelessly. ‘C—–,’ he said again.
It’s the by-law enthusiasts’ expletive of choice. I recently wrote a
short piece asking why we react with such violence to minor affronts,
giving as an example a man who saw me biking on the pavement and spat
in my face. I received several letters in reply. The latest, from
Anonymous in Hemel Hempstead, begins, ‘Dear bubble-brained c—–. You
make me sick. Frankly you got off lightly. If it had been me, I would
have broken your jaw.’ I spent Friday on the phone to the Metropolitan
Police, who have promised to find out if any pedestrians are ever
injured by cyclists..."
I'm rather suprised that the Spectator is so coy as to delete
expletives. Probably well deserved in retaliation for pavement
cruising and red light running, IMO.
The article later goes on to recount a visit to the writer's favourite
place of worship; the Anglican, and appropriately named for a cyclist
I thought, Holy Trinity Brompton.
"After Wednesday’s Tube strike, most Londoners will have decided again
that the only solution is a bicycle. But there’s a dark side to
cycling in the city. Since I bought my first bike a year or so ago I
have been astonished by the outbursts of spittle-flecked fury
pedestrians unleash upon cyclists. Any minor deviation from the letter
of the law — a quick pedal on the pavement, a whizz through Hyde Park
— induces instant Tourette’s syndrome in passers-by: ‘You stupid
f—–ing cow! Get off your f—–ing bike!’ etc., etc., followed by a
furious rant about how, literally, lethal bicycles are. Last week I
crept cautiously through a red light on Oxford Street, craning left
and right to make sure the coast was clear — no traffic, no pregnant
shoppers, no old ladies pushing tartan wheelie-bags. I had, however,
been spotted. About 15 feet further on, a man stepped into the road in
front of me and shouted, ‘C—–, I saw you! C—–!’ ‘What’s wrong with
you? Why do you care?’ I asked, hopelessly. ‘C—–,’ he said again.
It’s the by-law enthusiasts’ expletive of choice. I recently wrote a
short piece asking why we react with such violence to minor affronts,
giving as an example a man who saw me biking on the pavement and spat
in my face. I received several letters in reply. The latest, from
Anonymous in Hemel Hempstead, begins, ‘Dear bubble-brained c—–. You
make me sick. Frankly you got off lightly. If it had been me, I would
have broken your jaw.’ I spent Friday on the phone to the Metropolitan
Police, who have promised to find out if any pedestrians are ever
injured by cyclists..."
I'm rather suprised that the Spectator is so coy as to delete
expletives. Probably well deserved in retaliation for pavement
cruising and red light running, IMO.
The article later goes on to recount a visit to the writer's favourite
place of worship; the Anglican, and appropriately named for a cyclist
I thought, Holy Trinity Brompton.
