Peloton news – Pride and prejudice
Deep breath.
OK, here goes.
I am prejudice. At times, horrifically so.
There. I’ve said it.
I feel better. Marginally.
Society today is becoming increasingly intolerant of any individual who dares transgress the firming social lines of the protection of the individual. And if the individual is in any kind of minority group, then watch out buster, say nothing or have your very being besmirched for being an out-of-date and contemptible individual. Cast out of the society you circled in and forever damned as being a sinner amongst saints.
Last week a cable TV show announced the annual winner of the ‘Funniest joke at the fringe’ award.
Every year I read through the top 10 and smirk at the inevitable, but usual amusing and witty contenders.
This year was no different.
An example of the type of top gaggery comes from the 2017 winner. Topical, as it came at the time of a new release from the Royal mint:
I'm not a fan of the new pound coin, but then again, I hate all change
Nice. A gag that has both a slight play on meaning and it topical.
This year’s winner was equally gentle in its bending of phrasing.
I keep randomly shouting out 'Broccoli' and 'Cauliflower' - I think I might have florets.
Now I read this at work one morning, and seconds later moved on with other things. A few days later and a casual glance at the BBC website and there was a follow-on story. This time Auntie Beeb has published an article about the annoyance that the Tourettes Society have felt at with this joke.
A prominent lady within the society voiced distinct disapproval;
“Humour is a great way of educating people - but not only is it not funny to poke fun at people with Tourette's, it's not even that funny a joke, is it?”
In the irony of all ironies, the Tourettes society were one week away from launching a campaign aimed at stopping the condition being a punchline in jokes. How d’ya like them fucking apples.
Now I personally think you’re treading a fine line by dictating what you can and can’t make jokes about. Clearly the old days of Chubby Brown and Jim Davidson are well and truly behind us. Humour used to belittle particular groups and minorities. It always left a nasty taste in the mouth. But not being funny because someone is in a minority group? Not such a clean-cut affair.
I find it almost unbearably funny taking the piss out of people who are different. People who don’t conform. Social groups are almost always driven by some sort of common conformity after all. Look at the Peloton. All centred around cycling and conforming to what that social circle deems acceptable.
Let’s look at a few examples of what happens when someone wanders off group alignment.
• JT rode a Cube FFS. And it was a triple! In the fullness of time he was nearly bullied into tears over that little faux pas
• RTA made the best repair he could to a pair of shoes that had given him particularly good value. Merciless haranguing followed
• Has Damo worn the famour winter ‘lobster glove’ since that particularly cold ride on January?
• Macca and the white ‘show the world your penis’ bib shorts.
Now none of the above makes any difference to the enjoyment of cycling. But they all made a helluva difference to the enjoyment of cycling on that particular day (for 7 out of the 8 riders at any rate).
But this is the thing. Comedic highlighting of group norm differences within the group, gentle isolation, then regular revisiting of past errors affirms group identity. And, it actually re-shapes individual behaviour and brings it back to group behaviour.
An interesting point to ponder is this. Should the individual who made the brave move away from group compliance, continue to do so without giving a merry fuck, would the group then gently steer towards him as a standard? Would his own confidence and ‘don’t-give-a-flying-fuckery’ actually position him as a standard setter…one to follow…?
It’s difficult to believe that the Peloton could, in some parallel universe all be riding about the place in white penis-flaunting bib-shortery… but you never know.
Thank fuck Macca is a social conformist is all I can think.
This behaviour however is inbred. It’s part of humanity. When it’s one of your own, it’s good natured and mistakes are to be pounced on with glee. They’re funny. And there is nothing quite as satisfying as being the first one to publicy spot a fellow rider’s error.
Outside the social group, the prejudices are all still there, but all sense of warmth evaporates. This is where my inner demons roam. This is where my critical and saintly eye turns on humanity from the comfort of my own stately glass house.
I have a broad expansive set of prejudices and as part of recognising who I am, I feel the need to unburden myself. Think of it as detoxing. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll be a better person. More accepting. Happier, dare I say it.
So, in no particular order, here is a summarised list of some of the things that really hack me off about people whom I don’t know who have the temerity to be different to me.
• People who ride bicycles with the seat too low. Every time of see one of these hapless fuckers I think exactly the same thing. ‘Not very efficient on the quads that…. And you could do with dropping a gear or two. That slow cadence is making is harder that it should be.’ My gaze lingers for a few seconds whilst I mentally shake my head. Now what difference does it make to me that ‘random station commuter’ is going to spend exactly 8 mins not being as absolutely efficient as he could be? Answer? No difference whatsoever. So why do I feel slightly annoyed by it? How is this man’s seat height affecting my life in anyway whatsoever?
• People who ride by pushing the pedals with the middle of their feet as opposed to with the ball of their foot. When I see this, I want to see justice delivered instantly, preferably by the police using a taser gun to stop the offender in their tracks before then shouting at the quivering and prone floor-bound body to ‘pedal that fucking bike properly’ and then going about lesser police priorities. An overreaction? I think not. If I’m with the kids and I see this social travesty I point it out them. Seriously. It absolutely boils my piss.
• Now this one is perhaps my all time, most heinous of heinous crimes against civilised society. I mean, when exactly did some people revert to living with the apes in that great troop on the savanna? Have we forgotten millennia of tool-making and using skills? One of the very few things I might add, that genuinely separates us from nearly all living creatures on earth. When sitting in a restaurant or pub for that matter, and I see a mature homo sapien, who can seeming talk. Seemingly dress themselves in a manner compliant with social norms. Who can order food. Who can pay for food. Who can interact with waiting staff with courtesy and conviviality. But, who can’t hold a fucking fork like you are supposed to…! I mean for the love of sweet baby Jesus… you’re holding the thing with thumb and three fingers (pinky redundant)…jabbing it down like a fucking chop stick…. What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Why aren’t your parents at this very second, beating you to within an inch of your worthless life at your inability to grasp and use the most basic of tools in not just the right way, but the ONLY fucking way to use a fork!!! When I see this, I just want to shout ‘WANKER’ across the table and over my salmon and quinoa salad.
I had my annual BUPA health-check last week and no ulcer was detected, but I’m telling ya, it’s fucking coming.
This weekend I’ve been mountain biking with my eldest. I bloody love it. He bloody loves it. He’s new to it and the activity is nothing short of joyous.
Yesterday we went over to Holmbury St Mary and into some of the well-established MTB trails. Second time round I had a proper go at ‘Barry knows best’, a long swopping bermy 3 or so minutes which is just fabulous for the 2 beginners alike. This time though, whilst absolutely caning it and trying to set a time which my son wouldn’t beat (he did), I properly stacked it. Half way down. Came down hard and narrowly missed a tree. Very lucky really to only have a hurty shoulder today. After the event we went to the local pub and had chips and a pint. (Well, I did. Jnr had chips and a couple of glasses of coke. It’s like the Tenants super for the young generation.)
Outside there were scores of pretty serious looking bikes and bikers. They all looked different, but oddly the same. They all conformed to this particular group norm. I could tell my eldest was a little wary of being seen as a beginner. Neither of us where particularly dressed to ‘shred the gnar’ or whatever the fuck it is Macca says when he’s talking MTB mumbo jumbo.
I sat there and munched a chip. ‘Don’t worry about it son… I don’t care about them, we’re doing this and enjoying it. I don’t care what we look like. We have as much right to be here doing this as they do’.
Off we went, back to the car. I felt bruised. Jnr felt good following the Strava analysis. He’d come out on top. As we walked past a table of fellow diners I noticed the husband holding his fork the wrong way. Our eyes crossed. As I walked past I felt a sense of calm solidarity. He had every right to be there. Just as much as me. And if he insists on eating like a wanker, that’s his call.
Celebrate the commonalities, not the differences.
Hold that thought as the rag-tag peloton makes its way to France this year. Perhaps we will see more tolerance? (I bloody hope not).
Finally, for the first time in 5 years I rode with Clemo today. The Peloton’s favourite chippy and the most upright tax-paying citizen this country has seen has rediscovered his cycling mojo and is out on his bike.
Clemo and Amesy in Majorca fo G20? For the fist time in this edition, I’m not taking the piss.
Ride safely mon fuckerettes.
Hoppo