1 – Southside
Yes, that’s South of the River Yarra for all you bearded hipster twats up North. Stick that in your spelt-flour baguette! Also, Southern England from whence I hail; coal mining is soooo Eighties now. It’s all about Porsches, Fox Hunting and Laaahhndan Tahhhn innit?
* Please note I don’t have a beard, have never owned a singlespeed bicycle and I’m not on Instagram. At least one of those statements is true.*
2 – Lee Turner.
Another reason to be South of the Great Divide. Lee is close by so I can always get Shimano spares, as he has 6 unused Dura-Ace gruppos in a box under his stairs – these were all unwanted gifts from sponsors. He also loves a good chat about politics and his secret love for Margaret Thatcher, Jean-Marie Le Pen and other champions of the Right. Sorry Lee – it had to come out eventually!
4 – Red Wine
No, I’m actually deadly serious about this one. I really can’t recommend it highly enough as a recovery drink. I usually add one part RedBak Protein Powder to three parts Chateux Neuf du Pape for instant relief from muscle soreness, tiredness, stress, un-relaxedness, gout, consumption, dropsy, and other unfortunate ailments of modern times.
5 – Rom Coms
Save your action flicks… Guirguis and me both agree that nothing beats a good teary-yet-feel-good romantic comedy. Look for anything with Drew Barrymore, Hugh Grant, Rachel from Friends or Peter English in the starring role.You will not be disappointed.
6 – Hummers
Well done Hummer-owners, I really must congratulate you on your choice of vehicle for the inner city. Your children will certainly be safe from the kiddy-rapists up there in the back of that two tonne lump of metal. I would love to come and shake you by the hand except that I won’t be able to get through the four security gates and the moat that you’ve dug around your ghastly Mock-Tudor McMansion. But not to worry, when your children finally comprehend the catastrophic climate change that signals their impending doom, I’m sure they will be the first to shake your hand and thank you for your intelligent use of resources. That is if you haven’t accidentally reversed over said infants as you leave your suburban compound to drive the 200 metres to the servo to fill up on pies and chocolate.
7 – Fluroooo
Mere months ago the notion of wearing any hi-viz accessories on the bike was frowned upon by the cognoscenti – and as a result we were mown down in our droves. Now, its cool to adorn both bike and body extremities in shocking hues of lime and pink and hopefully survive another training ride. Bells are next, and eventually even small side mirrors so we can see the 4WD’s bearing down on us. Soon, the Hell Ride will be a sanctioned Audax event and a man with a beard and tweed plus-fours will stamp your brevet and give you a glass of orange squash at the top of Olivers Hill.
8 – 4Shaw Socks
OK, so again I am deadly serious about these. They are the best things out there, and will almost certainly guarantee victory on and off the bike, in business, sport and love. Just Peter English whose pink 4Shaw socks just gifted him a top ten at the 3DT. It was in no way due to hard training or immense talent…. no way.
9 – My SAS jacket
This thing is a weapon! A weapon against the rain, the cold and looking un-stylish. It’s the best jacket I have owned. In fact, it’s so good I’m even tempted to wear it off the bike, which brings me to….
10 – Hello, I am a cyclist.
Yes, me! I have a tee shirt which says “Bonjour, je suis en cycliste terrifique!” with a nice graphic of Laurent Fignon’s face next to it and a little race number sewn into the back pocket and a poem about the Arenberg Forest secretly printed on the back of the secret bit inside the collar. Not content with riding badly, sweating profusely, talking loudly and overbearingly in cafes and riding to Blackrock and back on 3 Million dollar tubulars (sorry Lee) I am now going to go home and change into a “cycling-inspired” array of casual garments which ensures that everyone knows I AM A CYCLIST, thus justifying my otherwise untenable existence on this earth. Luckily, my next door neighbour is a Hummer owner, and as a respector of cyclists he will surely NOT see my tee-shirt hanging on the washing line and come around and beat me to death with his golf clubs.