The Raging Peloton

Le Commentateur

Like everything else in the Alice in Wonderland world of pre-Olympic London, cycling has become the plaything of bankers and politicians. We have been persuaded to undergo an online process, like applying for a mortgage, or a loan we don’t need, in order to become a mobile advertisement for the benevolence of a financial institution. And by this application, we are registered, tagged, our movements logged and our conversations recorded. The entitled rich demonstrate their charitable instincts, their common touch, by making short commutes on expensive bicycles, thereby avoiding the foetid embrace of viral democracy on bus and tube train. City Hall politicians combine taxi miles (unphotographed) with cycle yards (accompanied by TV crews). Bobbin, a neighbourhood cave in St John Street, Islington, presents itself as ‘the most beautiful bicycle shop in Great Britain!’ Its moment has come, as it offers the pure John Major pedalling spinster experience: at a price. Pristine versions, in emerald green, of the high-handled cycles ridden by New Women in the novels of H.G. Wells. Along with capes and caps and corduroy jodhpurs. The middle classes, nostalgic for this village identity, stutter through the cycle inclusion zone on their heavy silver machines.
— Iain Sinclair

http://tinyurl.com/467x4ud

Setting off in a high(brow) gear, it gets better once he gains some momentum.

lucan

eh?
:?