Close Encounters of the Faintly Disturbing Kind

So there I was, just outside the vauxhall underpass, where the cycle-on-the-pavement bit ends and the no-cycling part begins. Being a good girl, I stopped cycling and – having paused to check for free bike racks – got off my bike. Or started to. For as I swung my leg behind me and over the back wheel, it encountered something. Something soft and trouser clad. Something at – not to put too fine a point on it – more or less crotch height. Because the chap behind me, despite seeing that I had stopped, didn’t seem to think that there was any likelihood that I might be actually about to obey the law and get off the bike, and was trying to squeeze past me, to the imminent peril of his meat-and-two-veg. Lucky I was wearing my crepe-soled shoes, is it not?

Gentlemen, you may uncross your legs now.

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7 responses to “Close Encounters of the Faintly Disturbing Kind

  1. *tears in my eyes…*

    Women riders…

  2. A brief but brilliant blog entry !

  3. heh heh – sorry guys …

  4. Heh. Serves him right, the fool.

  5. Don’t worry, if he’s been riding for long he’ll have lost all sensation down there anyway. But that’s not speeking from experience I must add.

  6. James – Sadly, it was me who was on the bike, not him …

    Katja – that was kind of my thinking, once I’d got over the embarrassment

    Frog – I didn’t kick him very hard … just enough to remind him that cyclists, like horses, shouldn’t be approached too close from behind.

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