No one with any sense gets their knickers in a twist over midweek point grabbing up at the local crits, but there are elements creeping into racing, and some that have always been present, that are beginning to grate on me.
A new one for this season is the dive bomber, the rider who can't corner for toffee but is good on the brakes. There we are, lining ourselves up for the corner, like we've always done, holding position and then following the line smoothly from outside to apex and back to outside before stamping on the pedals to the next turn......... BUT WAIT, WHO'S THIS? Buffalo Bill went around the outside so I know its not him..... oh, its that bloke with the saddle bag and an A-Z maps jersey hauling on the anchors into the hairpin, coming to a standstill on the apex - nice one dick nose!
The next life sponge one has been around for as long as I've been racing but only in the last year or so has it begun to yank my chain.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you 'The Gobshite Early Warning System' GEWS for short.
No one knows exactly who he is as he seems to be able to throw his voice, presumably from his relatively cozy position ensconced in the bunch, but, as a plucky racer decides its his turn to make a bid for glory and belts down the outside of the bunch, hoping to catch the rest napping, the GEWS pokes his swollen penis-like-head above the parapets and bleats "RIGHT" or "LEFT", depending on the chosen route of said plucky racer. Seemingly powerless to ignore the GEWS, the bunch accelerate and nullify the attack, then back the pace off for fear of entering Zone 3.
Here's am idea for all you GEWS out there, next time plucky racer decides to have a go, shut your whiny minge face right up and save that wind, put the effort into trying to join him and maybe, just maybe you could be involved in an exciting race situation instead of a tossy gob load of negativity. Sure you'll hurt a hell of a lot after letting your legs do the talking for once, but not as much as you'll hurt if I ever see you open your pie-hole.
- Martina Nav-rant-all-ova
Saturday, June 28, 2014
Monday, May 12, 2014
Thursday, May 8, 2014
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
|Holden, centre, chasing Dave Bedford (right)|
At his peak, he achieved an ambition to run 100 miles and drink 100 pints in a single weekor
Holden was opposed to the privatisation of dentistry, fearing that those in need could find it more difficult to access services, and he remained an NHS-only dentist throughout his careerand
On one of his training runs, Holden came across a dog which had been weighed down with bricks and left to drown in a canal. He adopted it, and Schnicky became his faithful companionget's our stamp of approval.
You really don't get better than that. Sixty five was too young for Holden to die: he epitomised a lot of what ViCiOUS stands for and gets a permanent plaque (he was a dentist after all) on the ViCiOUS Wall of Fame. To sport and beer!