London Cyclists must be made accountable

As both a Driver & Cyclist in London, I understand both sides of the argument. Now whilst yes I completely agree they’re some terrible drivers and downright maniacs who shouldn’t be allowed to drive on our roads. But after I recently began noting the volume of cyclists whose lives I was literally saving (yes saving) on a daily basis, I think it’s time for a revaluation on the whole situation. Families and the media can only blame drivers for so long.

Sadly a large minority of cyclists in London seem to not understand the basic rules of the road. You know stuff like don’t wear headphones listening to music whilst bombing down a main road. Not looking left or right when you come out a side street, or dare I say it actually put your arm out to let the drivers behind you know your plans (we don’t yet have the on board Minority Report screen with Tom Cruise voice advising us on your next move).

This morning was a particularly good morning as I saved 3 fucking morons lives & all in the space of one hour. I was the first car waiting at a junction, as the lights changed I put my car into gear and was about to take off when, sure enough a guy tore through the junction as fast as he could (possibly doing 40mph + as it was a slight decline) plus he was wearing large headphones!!! Now he clearly saw the lights turn red but thought ‘nah fuck it they will stop’ and sure enough we did.

Now let’s look at that again, imagine the following.

The lights turned green and I put my car into first gear and was about to move off, when just then my phone rings and I glance down to see who it is as I move off. I decide I can call them back later… BANG! My side windows smash and I cover my head instantly as glass covers me. I hear screams and see people rushing across in front and around my car. I get out and see him on the ground twenty or so feet away! He had rammed into the side of my car and was flung over the roof. Bystanders are calling the emergency services as my head spins. He is bleeding profusely and unconscious. Witnesses assured me I was not at fault. It’s an accident.

One morning during the week I drove around a corner and was confronted by a chap waving at me to stop with his car in the middle of the road. Peking around him I saw a man lying on the road and a bicycle on the ground next to him. I drove off feeling guilty but there was nothing I would do except ad to the crowd. I don’t know what happened to him but I heard the helicopter ten minutes later so can only presume he too was in a bad way.

How many times is this happing everyday in London? Because we only hear about the deaths! Many years ago one summer I travelled around the Netherlands and was surprised to see checkpoints in the countryside. In the Netherlands they check bikes for brakes, tyres, reflectors, horns and so on. The time has come for some sort of ID system for bikes with some type of rear chip/badge that can ID them. If it’s one a day on life support, then that’s the equivalent to a 747 full every year. Listening to the news today I have not heard of any deaths thankfully so I think I will post this now.

Mayor Boris must insist cyclists do compulsory courses in safety, learn basic rules of the road and common courtesy etc. We wouldn’t allow a worker on a building site without steel capped boots or a nurse not be health n safety trained. But anyone is allowed jump on a bike and do as they please once they’re not on a pavement. The police must be given the powers to stop and impound the bike of anyone wearing headphones and not wearing helmets and reflective clothing. This attitude of entitlement and at times downright self righteousness clearly displayed must be eradicated from our streets. Lot’s of cyclists in London only come home thanks to courteous careful drivers to whom they will never know just how indebted they are.

Ken Roche is the Author of the backpacking Saga

‘The Luke Steel Chronicles’

Free Condoms In Britons NHS fight against AIDS is a Joke. (Warning contains graphic images)

The NHS in the UK offers free condoms to anyone who wants them, so I decided to pay my local clinic a visit to collect a few (For research purposes) and also to see what the fuss was all about, so read on anonymous freaks.

It was a lovely summer’s day as I entered my local hospitals grounds. As I walked through I noticed what seemed to be a small enclosed yard. It was actually a steel cage, and inside it had a basketball hoop where four or five guys walked around in circles, sadly mumbling to themselves with blank expressions whilst staring at the floor.

Got a cigarette mate? The guy said ‘shocking me out of my daydream’. He was wearing sunglasses that covered most of his face, had a bad limp and most terrifyingly, he came towards me at breakneck speed dressed in a dark overcoat, under which he wore a thick jumper. (It was nearly midday in the height of summer and fast approaching 30 degrees in the shade) and he clearly hadn’t shaved in weeks.

Nah bruv…..mi gives up. ‘I replied’ immediately switching to street talk, as the urban self defence mechanism kicked in. No problem. ‘He smiled’ and kept walking. It was then I noticed the sign. ‘Tottenham mental health unit’ it stated in big bold letters. I looked back at the cage reminiscent of the Shawshank Redemption. Looking around just as the penny dropped I realized Mr Limp had done a Houdini, just then a magpie startled me by landed next to me. It was my Q to get a move on and find the dam clinic.

Following the signage I found my desired location. ‘Sexual Health Clinic’ it read in yet more bold letters (So big they must be clearly visible from the Hubble Space Telescope). Luckily the doors were automatic so I didn’t need to touch anything (Ebola being all the rage now) as they swung open, allowing me into the seldom seen world of the STD clinic. Stand here until you’re called! The sign informed me, an arrow pointed at a white line on the ground to confirm this.

Looking around I saw there was a large waiting area, were a half a dozen men and similar amount of women were seated. Anyone I made eye contact with immediately lowered their heads towards the ground. Next! A rather unattractive young lady bawled from behind a Perspex window, and indicated for my good self to cross the fore mentioned white line.

Err, hello…can I get some condoms please? ‘I said confidently’. Sorry? Came the instant reply that I’m used to in London as ‘she ignored my question to try to dissect my accent’. I said can I……She got up without listening and opened a drawer and pulled out a large purple paper bag. She had figured out my accent, and thus finally downloaded the question.

Name? She asked as she returned and sat in her chair. Strangely I then felt the eyes of those seated behind me zoom in on the back of my head listening to every word. Date of birth? Postcode? There you go ‘she said’ passing the bag through a gap in the Perspex like I had answered all the test questions and had won a prize. I turned and everyone was still looking at the floor. One chap was biting his nails staring into space whilst a girl looked at me with an expression that said ‘I hope we never see each other again’ before going back looking down at her phone.

No privacy what so ever. Expected to let strangers know the purpose of your visit. Asked for personal details within earshot of strangers.

If this is the NHS’s idea of promoting safe sex, then I can I see why they have plenty of customers and will do for the foreseeable future.

Ken Roche is the author of ‘The Luke Steel Chronicles’ available via amazon.