I've shouted at two naughty black cabs, one dozy minibus driver and have seriously muttered about a lot of cyclists.
It's an unfortunate truth that some of the cyclists in central London are complete peenarses. They speed through Hyde Park like they're in a race, with little old ladies and wayward toddlers forced to leap out of the way even when they're on the pedestrian sections. So intent on overtaking their fellow cyclists, some of these dimwits turn the wide two-way cycle lane into a speedway. A couple nearly hit me head on yesterday while trying to overtake other cyclists. Others just nip out of the cycle lane onto the pedestrian walkway, blindly expecting people to get out of their way.
As I'm still on Boris bikes at the moment I also get the sneery look of derision from some of them as they whizz past. I'm sorry mate, but given that your carbon dream machine weighs about an eighth of the steel contraption I'm on it's no wonder you're going faster than me. It's so not a legitimate scalp you moron.
Then there are the worrisome nobheads on their phones while cycling. They weave around, occasionally glancing up to see what's coming. Sheesh. Get off your phone or get off your bike.
Perhaps I was protected from all this when I was commuting into zone two, maybe zone one is just another twilight zone, infested with evil meanies.
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