Mayor Boris has proved his proletarian potential by giving his goodwife a ride behind him on his bike.
But the only acceptable second seat on a bike is the croggy – or for the posh lot, the cross bar. The lady is then safely embraced and close enough for canoodling. Ladies’ bikes are useless for the purpose of course, which explains why modern females ride fellas’ bikes.
My pic shows Boris offering a couple of ladies a ride.
Yer gorra laff! Just picture it: a hundred and fifty lads on bikes going like the clappers for 120 miles on Corsica. Then minutes from the finish somebody jams a team-bus on the line. Panic ensues. The finish will now be 300 metres before the line; half the riders get the message and start sprinting; lots of them fall off their bikes; the bus is extracted and the finish line reinstated.
Guess who’s been using up all those illicit drugs since the big clean-up .
The cynical hypocrisy of Lance Armstrong continues. No dignified Profumo-style retirement for him. His disgrace as cycling’s biggest-ever cheat is now compounded by his carefully orchestrated, tearful TV ‘confession’, already billed as the greatest show on earth, with the clear objective of seeking sympathy and even more millions of dollars from the hoodwinked public. Pass the spittoon.
While cherished cynics pooh-pooh the eighty-seven hour ride around the magnificent French campagne, there are those of us who will be pleased that three English riders have proved better than the rest. And although outspoken Daley Thompson believes that athletics are the superior discipline (his own claim to fame relies on his failure to be good enough at any one of his ten to be a world-beater like Steve Redgrave), I defy anyone to doubt the skill and dedication displayed by the Sky team in sealing first and second places overall for Bradley Wiggins and Chris Froome and two three* explosive stage wins for Mark Cavendish.
As a footnote, the spectacle was a welcome counterpoint to English fortunes at the Oval and Royal Lytham, where Soutie’s mates won all the laurels.
Just finished my first shift marshaling this years Ironman South Africa. which is being held right here in Algoa Bay for the 8th consecutive year.
A 3.8km swim, 180.2km cycle followed by a 42.2km run.
The weather is awful, cold, a strong westerly wind and occasional showers (it poured down early this morning.)
Although the lead cyclist only came past our intersection at 8.15am my crew and I were on station from 5.30am. We had the road closed by 6.00am and spent the rest of the morning fielding inquiries from motorists, most of whom were quite reasonable about the whole thing, as always we had the odd idiot who thought that he was more important than the wellbeing of the almost 2000 entrants but we’re quite adept at handling them and all in all things have gone rather well so far.
I’ll head back at about 1.30pm and help finish off the last hour or so.
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