Posted by: Nick Walters | August 1, 2007

Return of the Anti-Cycling League

It’s been a while…

After work I embarked on one of my long way home routes (I live less than a mile from my office, which is no distance for a decent ride, so I have devised some rides taking me in an 8-10 mile loop from work to home) which takes in St Anne’s Park.

As I cycled through the park I spotted a familiar figure sitting on a bench. As I drew closer I realised that it was the woman from the Anti-Cycling League, who had accosted me twice before.

When she saw me approach she stood up and blocked the way. I braked more in amazement than for any other reason, because she was wearing a wedding dress.

That’s right – a WEDDING dress, frillier than a jellyfish, whiter than snow. She was holding a bouquet of dead roses and her face was plastered with make-up. She looked like she’s stepped out of a Sisters of Mercy video circa 1985.

“Well, hello”, I said. “Come to harangue me about the evils of cycling again?”

“Not this time”, she hissed in a voice as sinister as Darth Vader in the dark. “MARRY ME!”

“Uh? But – why? As a cyclist, I am your arch enemy! Your Nemesis, as it were!”

She threw the dead roses to the ground and stepped forwards, spreading her arms wide in supplication, her heavily mascara’d eyes shining like twin beacons of insanity. “It’s the ONLY WAY we can defeat the darkness! You and I together – can STOP the cyclists spreading disease with their teeth and their legs! Marry me – and we can bring about a new age of enlightenment! Marry me – and we can produce an army of children to CONQUER THE WORRRRLLLD!”

That last bit was uttered in a shriek that would have made Lady Macbeth tremble in fear.

“Er, no thanks”, I said, skirting round her and zooming out of the park.

Unfortunately the dead roses had shed their thorns, one of them had stuck in Bellinda’s front tyre and so I had a puncture halfway down Bloomfield Road. DRAT that woman! I hope someone sections her soon.


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