Just straightened and refitted the rear mud guard on my Pashley Sovereign Roadster (click). It needed attention after a late night incident by the side of Hackney Downs, E5. I was cycling back from Vogue Fabrics (click) where I'd slipped down for a couple of sly rums. After an amusing banter with Lyall, (I hope to use his party guile for my birthday do in June: 'the three P's' he continually reminds!),  I was on my way home aboard my bike.

A ghetto ride.

I took the more 'frontline' root via Shacklewell Lane and Downs road. Pals from the manor identify this particular area by the Downs as a no-go at night for anybody other that quite mental ghetto types. Flying along on my massive sit up and beg Pashley I felt quite safe however.

Ahead two girls walked along laughing, also after a night out. The hooded (yes, he actually had his hood up), youth that kicked broadside into the back of my bike as I shot by came from nowhere. He made serious contact, but it was so central to the bike I managed to stay on the thing. The girls fell about laughing and the youth shouted something. Instant agro is the best, as there is zero time to be scared. Another bigger (the first was just big) youth converged from the other direction on a course with me. I peddled hard, banked the other way, and just swerved up the cycle cut by the Baptist Church on the posh bit of Downs Road as his lunge missed my back wheel. I continued flat out and extremely alert until my brain decided it was OK to process the situation. If I'd of come off the whole thing would have been markedly different. Something worse might well have had to happen.

Louis Louis.

I'd been jammy to be honest. In Ferragamo blazer, extremely tight Acne jeans ('The NHS shrunk my ACNEs' is the next post on this site), new Louis Vuitton chelsea boots with ankle strap and Damier detail, and in the upright position that one assumes on the mighty Pash, I was more than a target. Cycling down that road, at that time (2am) in that get up and position, the poor ragga kids had no option but to attack. The girls would have thought they were right wimps if they didn't. I don't think they even tried their best. Still, might not use that particular route at night unless am safely inside the Saab. I've also fitted a cross bow to the handle bars of the bike.


PS. The three Ps are planning, planning and planning. Its official.