Monday, 20 May 2013

West Side Story


Somewhere in a hotel on the French / Italian border, Team Sky back room staff are having an emergency pre- Tour de France strategy meeting.  

David: (Spoken) Come July, against the Shark we’re gonna need every man we got.

Rod: (Spoken) Chris don't belong any more.

David: (Spoken) Cut it, Rod, Chris’s been with the Skys since the start.

Rod: Well, he acts like he don't wanna belong.

Shane : Who wouldn't wanna belong to the Skys!

Steve: Yeah, don’t forget last year when we clobbered the Limes!

Shane: Which we couldn't have done without Chris.

David: Right! He's always come through for us and he will now.

(sings)
When you're a Sky,
You're a Sky all the way
From your first protein shake
To your last dyin' day.

When you're a Sky,
If the spit hits the fan,
You got brothers around,
You're a family man!

You're never alone,
You're never disconnected!
You're home with your own:
When company's expected,
You're well protected (especially in the mountains)!

Then you are set
With a capital S,
Which you'll never forget
Till they scrape up the mess.
When you're a Sky,
You stay a Sky!

(spoken) I know Chris like I know me. I guarantee you can count him in.

Rod: In, out, let's get crackin'.

Shane: Where you gonna find Vincenzo?

David: At dinner tonight at the hotel.

Shane: But the hotel's neutral territory!

David: (innocently) I'm gonna make nice there! I'm only gonna challenge him.

Rod: Great, Daddy-O!

David: So everybody Rapha up, sweet and sharp.

ALL (sing)
Oh, when the Skys fall in at the hotel restaurant,
We'll be the sharpest dressed gang in France!
And when the chicks dig us in our Jet black threads,
They're gonna flip, gonna flop, gonna wilt like plants!

David: (Spoken) Hey. Cool. Easy. Sweet. Meet at the bar at ten. And walk tall!

Steve: We always walk tall!

Shane: We're Skys!

Steve: The greatest!

Steve and Shane (sing)
When you're a Sky,
You're the top cat in town,
With the gold medal kid
And the heavyweight crown!

When you're a Sky,
You're the swingin'est thing:
Little boy, you're a man;
Little man, you're a king!

ALL
Come July, come the Skys
Like bats out of hell.
Someone gets in our way,
Someone don't feel so well!

Shane: (Spoken) Ha ha, yeah! Like that Canadian!

Rod: Shut up Shane! That backfired!

ALL (Sing)
Here come the Skys:
Little world, step aside!
Better go underground,
Better run, better hide!

We're drawin' the line,
So keep your noses hidden!
We're hangin' a sign,
Says "Visitors forbidden"
And we ain't kiddin'!

Here come the Skys,
Yeah! And we're gonna beat
Every last vuggin' gang
On the whole vuggin' street!
On the whole!
Ever!
Mother!
Lovin'!
Street!
Yeah!

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With sincere apologies to Stephen Sondheim and Leonard Bernstein.  Please find original material at http://www.westsidestory.com/site/level2/lyrics/lyrics.html

Tuesday, 30 April 2013

Bespoked Bristol


In which our cyclist is inspired to order 3 tonnes of pig iron and a spot-welder off t’internet, and our heroine gives the man behind her evils when she hears him say, “There she is.  That’s the one with the really large flanged hubs…”.  Leave my flanged hubs out of it.

Virtually the second the cyclist and I walked into the Bespoked Bristol Hall it became embarrassingly obvious I’d missed the ‘beard and camera’ memo.  I might as well have been naked.  A bit of a wander around (slightly difficult, as the event was packed and could easily have filled a space twice the size), a coffee (don't ask. Just don't ask.) and a cyclist disappearing into the throng to attend a talk on tube and lug prep, and I began to consider my own take on the event.

Look, you should know by now that I can't do this sort of thing straight faced.  And if you're interested in hand built frames and wanted a proper discussion about the event, there are hundreds of blogs and articles covering Bespoked Bristol - hells even the BBC ran a piece (check it here).  But before I get silly, please let me recommend to you Made in England (www.pushprojects.net or available at Amazon), a beautiful, heartfelt tribute to the art of the hand-built frame and those profiled within. 

And so, without further delay, a rundown of the judge's scores for the best beards* at Bespoked Bristol 2013.

*Judges note: Many, many impressive beards could be found wandering the event.  Judges felt is was only right to judge solely those attending the event as exhibitor, rather than risk the inevitable arrest that would have arisen from following members of the public around and making notes about their facial hair.

Ted James Designs – 5/5

Quite possibly the greatest beard in cycling, and the runaway winner of Best Beard in Show, Ted James' beard makes him stand out like a framebuilding JESUS.  As if the beard itself were not wonder enough (it is), The bikes are beset with badass detailing (skull motif, crossed cutlasses etc); and to underline his position as rockstar frame builder extraordinaire who's been up all night partying and filing lugs, dude’s hands look like they need a sheep-dip and swarfega manicure and he has a bucket of actual metal shavings on his stand. This shit got real, and the judges salute you, sir.

Gaze on ye wonder of Ted James' beard, there could only be one winner. Yes, I snuck a photo like a weirdo stalker, I'm not proud of myself.

Badass bucket of metal.

 Nice detailing on the Ted James Designs frames.  Arrrrrrrrr.

Winter Bicycles – 4/5

Honourable runner-up in the beard event, and winners of best track frame.   A thoroughly impressive effort with excellent 'bush', enhanced by closely cropped hair and ably accessorised with multiple tattoos, piercings and an American accent.



Condor Cycles 4/5

A third place beard, solid coverage, good length, insouciantly cool, and propelled into a podium place with the judge’s discretionary style points awarded for the rakish addition of a hipster man-bun. Yes, hipster man-bun.  What of it?



Colourbolt 4/5

A solid 4 out of 5 facial hair combination, with excellent handlebar detailing to the moustache, and teamed with another man-bun.  Just misses out on the third place spot to Condor, as although similar in type, Mr Condor just had the edge in the 'cool motherlover' stakes. 

Fresh Tripe Bikes 4/5

Judges comment: ‘Luxuriant’.  As far as coverage goes, pretty much outstanding -  however those placed higher scored better on artistic interpretation.

Boneshaker Mag 3.5/5

Although not framebuilders themselves, they have solidly embraced the beardy ethos of the framebuilders with which they mix.  Particularly excellent moustache quality, and full kudos for the gingerness.

Royce 3/5

A nice collective effort of synchronised bearding, with a full showing from all present – although nothing outstanding from any one participant.  Judges note the enormous bucket of beer at the side of the stand, and nod approvingly.

Excellent beer showing from the boys at Royce.  Well played.

Tokyo Fixed 3.5/5

Judges on the day award Tokyo Fixed best strawberry blonde beardage, and best rainbow glitter frame paint job. RAINBOW GLITTER, PEOPLE.  That’s probably worth another half point in all honesty.

Rainbow glitter.  Bitching.

Faggin Bikes 3/5

Two representatives of Faggin Bikes here, one offering a solid 3/5 on the beard front, and the judges note a 3/5 rated ‘services to moustache’ from representative 2, sporting a daring ‘moustache only, no beard’ effort, unusual in one so young (could have been a stick-on).

Brick Lane Bikes 3/5

A solid commitment to the art of the beard from Brick Lane Bikes, possibly inspired by the beard master himself, and alumnus Ted James.



Field 2.5/5

Not an overly impressive stand-alone beard, but teamed with a shaved head to good ‘inverted head’ effect.  Excellent work on the paint jobs, Field – Guy Collier (check out his Bespoked Bristol Gallery here) and I met taking a picture of the same frame. His pic of this frame has me in it, and is officially the third worst photo of me in existence (really. Any others that have come out like that have been BURNED) after the one on my passport (Good Lord have mercy) and the one on my driving licence where I look like a seriously surprised mid-meltdown Britney Spears , but don’t let that put you off.



Donhou Bicycles 2/5

Facial hair judged ‘shabby’ rather than ‘beardy’, but additional style points have to be awarded as the attendee has attracted himself a very pretty bobble-hatted beard groupie.

Purdy paintwork.  Judges expect a better beard showing next year.


Downland Cycles 2/5

A fair coverage, which is, however, regrettably lacking in ‘bush’.

Rourke Cycles 2/5

Good potential here, coverage was strong and colour was even, but length was lacking.  Consider upping your protein intake, or possibly some sort of herbal 'Hair, Skin and Nails' supplement to support and promote growth, and we will see you next year, Rourke.

Swrve 2/5

Disappointingly average given the hipster potential afforded by the dropping of the first vowel.  While the judges cannot condone 'over grooming' of the beard region, Swrve were judged to be on the wrong side of 'unkempt', and in danger of skirting 'tramp'.

Swallow 1.5/5

Bespoked’s winner’s of ‘Best Road Bike’, judges liked the brand detailing on the bikes.  Not enough, however to be able to award more than 1.5 points for the beard effort.  You can do better.



Mosquito 1/5

Judges note: The score reflects full beard coverage and ‘bush’ - categories regrettably lacking amongst the friendly and knowledgable Mosquito attendees, who are however rocking the art of facial topiary in some style and artistic interpretation and flamboyant individuality abound.

Flat Frame Systems 1/5

Apologies Mr Flat Frame, but your neatly clipped moustache/goatee combo has been judged as befitting a financial advisor, not a cool-ass purveyor of custom bikes.

Enigma Titanium 1/5

One of the attendees on this stand was actually completely beardless.  Unless he was drafted in at the last minute, we reckon this is worthy of a verbal warning.

Feather Bikes 1/5

Were truly a beard an indication of frame-building prowess, Ricky Feather would have strode* into Bespoked Bristol sporting a white flowing beard to his knees like a steel-working Santa Claus / Gandalf hybrid, and onlookers would have genuflected where they stood.  Winner of Best Bike in the show and the public vote, the Feather Bikes stand was permanently 5-deep on all sides with appreciative folk taking in exquisite detail after exquisite detail.  After all, what’s the point in a bespoke frame if it doesn’t scream ‘YAY! LOOK AT MY AWESOME PAINT JOB AND MOTHERFUCKING FLAME SHAPED LUGS! WHEEEEEEEEE!’?

*Listen, I know it doesn't look right, and dabbled with 'stridden' but strode is the past tense of to stride - I checked.


Superb detailing from Feather Bikes, including the frankly incredible flame lugs (centre). Flame Lugs. I want Flame Lugs.

Merenyi Bicycles 1/5

‘Beard’ as advanced 5pm shadow. Like a slightly patchy Fred Flintstone.

Demon Frameworks 1/5

Tsk.  Did you not get the memo, Mr Demon?  There was some beardage, but given the solid nature of many of the competitors the effort here only merited a single point from the possible 5.  Shame, cos the bikes is nice.

Racer Rosa 1/5

Another lacklustre effort hugely overshadowed by the bearded behemoths judged before.  Be bold! Embrace and nurture your beard!  And don't be afraid to dabble in some Mane 'n Tail for body and shine.

Bristol Bike Project 0.75/5

Poor, poor effort on the beard front.  However, had we been rating the contestants on ‘Hair Like A Pokémon’, dude would’ve romped it.  Judges suspect heat styling, mousse and spray were all in effect, rendering him extremely flammable in the event of a stray spark.  It's Health and Safety gone mad.

Cota Engineering 0.5/5

There is a big difference between ‘unshaven’ and ‘bearded’.  Cota Engineering were fully embracing the former, and the judges were not fooled for a second.

Slate 0.5/5

By the judge’s expert reckoning, the dude shaved the day before yesterday.  Offering was less 'beard' and more 'velcro'.

Hobo Cycles 0/5

Hobo actually have a frame on display called the ‘Weirdy Beardy’, and yet no beard AT ALL is in evidence.  Judges are puzzled, and so disappointed they’ve wandered off to gaze upon the wonder of Ted James’ beard some more.




Thursday, 14 March 2013

Urban Dictionary

A little background on my newest endeavour...

Well, it's been a while, and for that I can only apologise.  In my 'off-season' we've moved house, started the kids at new schools, and I still have no sodding broadband save for those days I'm in work (I'm doing this on work time now - shush!).  But I said I had something up my sleeve, and finally it's gone 'live'...

It started, as these things so often do, with Andre Griepel.  Sat there in January with the cyclist, watching the Tour Down Under highlights, eating M+M's and snarking about how for the second year running he seemed determined to peak in January, it hit me like a ton of bricks that 'Griepel' could be used to describe a method of training with that end.  That got me thinking, Urban Dictionary-style about other ways cyclists, races and related stuff could be defined beyond their usual terms.

Originally, the Cyclist Urban Dictionary was meant to be a blogpost on here, but time went on and the execution kept failing to live up to the concept.  In the end I decided the best way forward was to create a site of it's own, although it probably doesn't help that I am abjectly useless with technology and therefore have cobbled the site together in the most user-unfriendly and difficult way possible.

What happens next is, I suppose, up to you.  I cannot possibly populate it properly, I'm basically too thick, and too new to cycling.  But if you like the concept, and have a few ideas of your own, post them to the site and let's get started.....

http://cyclisturbandictionary.blogspot.co.uk/

Please also check out the Rules at http://cyclisturbandictionary.blogspot.co.uk/p/rules.html

Thursday, 28 February 2013

Holding page....

Apologies for the recent lack of updates.

I am currently working on something a little bit different.  It's taking a little bit of time to put together, but hopefully it'll be worth it....

Tuesday, 22 January 2013

Poetry Corner.

I know what you're thinking - what's *really* been missing from the whole Lance circus is a piece in antidactylus trimeter...


I've been trying to think of a way
To express how I'm feeling today,
And I've had to conclude
That without being rude,
There just isn't a lot I can say.

So I'm giving up being polite
What I saw on the telly that night;
A controlled demonstration
To our consternation,
And to put it quite bluntly, 'twas shite.

This could have redeemed you, Armstrong,
I'm afraid that you played it all wrong.
To commute your 'life sentence'
You must show some repentance,
"They were telling the truth all along".

You tried to play 'poor little Lance',
But in lies you seem somewhat advanced.
Are we s'posed to forget
All those lives you have wrecked?
Do you really expect one more chance?

He admitted the dope, but just that;
And we couldn't escape from the fact
That try as he might
He could not seem contrite,
But he never said Betsy was fat! (so that's alright then)

Lance, it's going to take more than just shrugs
To repent a career based on drugs.
And I know you're perplexed
That we're all still so vexed
But too long you have played us for mugs.

For up 'til now, all of the while,
You were issuing quite a denial,
As stony of face
You would swear that the race
Was not won on the strength of a phial.

Just 'One big lie' that you repeated?
Can you not understand, we feel cheated?
You abridged your admission,
No display of contrition
To those clean cyclists that you defeated (and bullied, and ruined etc etc etc)

So, to the performance of Oprah,
Well, we wondered how well she might cope-rah
In the face of a snake,
But she made no mistake,
And it seemed she just gave him the rope-rah.

So what's next in line for our friend?
Books, movies and shows without end.
An E! Channel biopic
(The actor myopic)
And a musical on the West End?

Pardon me, but I think that it's funny
That what's important to him now ain't the money,
But the chance to don trunks
And line up with the hunks,
And get ready to bike, swim and run-ny.

Now what is the moral of this tale?
That in time every cheater will fail
Efforts not to get caught
In the end come to naught
Hell, you might even end up in jail!

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With sincere apologies to Dr Alice Miller, who probably will never see this, but wrote the entire first verse and half of the second in the mid 1990's at Maynard School.  It's been trapped in my subconscious ever since.

Thursday, 10 January 2013

Logistics

Shove over girls, room for a small one...




There's been a bit of to-ing and fro-ing; some ups and downs; a little disappointment, a lot of  excitement.  Finally she's coming.  The new bike, Suzy, is on her way.  T-2 days.

In anticipation of this joyous event, the cyclist has booked himself a little paternity leave from work, and organised a first ride 'play-date' to a Mountain Bike Trail in North Wales.  He's about as giddy as our 7-year old son was 2 days before Christmas.  Suzy's imminent arrival is pretty much all he can talk about.  Previously a committed Roadie, he genuinely cannot wait to get off-road and dirty; at the moment probably his most used word is 'Enduro' - he's even joined a Facebook group of like minded individuals, and trust me when I say this, this sort of behaviour is highly irregular.  This is not generally speaking a boy who plays well with others.

But the arrival of a new bike begs an awkward conversation and a difficult question; where the hell are we going to put the sodding thing?

Famously, visitors to Redlands in the late 1960's had to sit on the floor as all the chairs were taken up by Keith Richards' guitars; a model the cyclist would cheerfully emulate substituting, of course, the guitars for bikes.  And perhaps getting some bigger chairs.  Possibly even a chaise lounge or two.

There is actually a very real possibility we might have to stick Suzy on the sofa; there is no space.  Our very small house is already straining at the seams.  The bikes have to be inside the house for security purposes, and our front room already has 2 in it, tessellated Escher-style in front of the fireplace, occasionally press-ganged into laundry drying service or forming the basis of a handy battleground for whatever game it is the kids are thumping each other over at that precise moment.  The ceiling in our bedroom is positively bowing under the stored weight of the cyclist's bikes from his former life lurking in the loft, including an extremely elderly time-trial frame (vintage? Antique?), possibly actually hewn from rock at the dawn of civilisation.  We might have been able to squeeze Suzy in to the bathroom, next to the shower, but the cyclist kiboshed this on the grounds of 'splashback'.  There's nowhere to turn in the kitchen.  The dining area is already home to 3 wheels and a winter frame.  The bedroom is out of bounds - hell, I have to draw a line somewhere.  She's going to have to live in the front room.

But oh! the front room.  There is so much (and here I use the technical term) CRAP in our front room, accessing almost anything is like taking on a particularly tricky Crystal Maze puzzle, perhaps from the Industrial Zone.  It's entirely possible that when we move out we'll find the dry bones of an accountant called Dave from Slough who got locked in somewhere between the telly and the gaudy pink play kitchen in 1993.  Currently added to our already critically high levels of standard everyday flotsam and jetsam is the remains of the Christmas detritus (and yes, I am well aware it's mid-January now), including several metric tonnes of brand new Barbies dressed like pole-dancers and Moshi Monsters which will cripple you even worse than a Lego should you have the misfortune to stand on one, which I've been avoiding sorting in to the correct Ikea plastic storage boxes.  For that extra frisson of excitement, once they've run the gauntlet of the Krypton Factor style assault course to enter the inner sanctum, guests to our humble abode can also look forward to debilitating mauling from a small, unpredictable cat with a predilection for GBH and the IQ of a banana - who will, when you least expect it, position himself under where you're about to put your foot and attempt to remove it at the ankle, before dashing wild eyed and flat-eared up the christmas tree (still in the front room, de-baubled and awaiting relegation to the loft), and trying to shag it.  The whole place is very much, in fact, like a ruined and booby-trapped temple from off of an Indiana Jones movie, except Indy did what he did for the Fortune and Glory, kid, and not merely to get to the hairspray in the cupboard next to the fireplace.

As an exercise in 'blue-sky' thinking, I made the following suggestion regarding Carly, the 'best' bike;
'In order to free up a bit of space, and as you probably won't ride her again now 'til the race season starts, how's about we leave her at the office?' (Please note, the office is safe, secure, and has tonnes of space).
He looks at me like I just suggested we break his mother down and sell her off organ by organ on a black market internet auction site.
'Or not, just a silly idea really' I hastily add, backpedalling furiously.

The look on his face is telling me that if anyone's going to be sleeping at the office in order to 'free up space', it'll be me.