In Competition No. 2622 you were invited to submit a rhymed curse penned by a motorist on a cyclist, a cyclist on a pedestrian or a pedestrian on either.
Reading the entry brought to mind a question once posed by Matthew Parris: ‘Does cycling turn you into an insolent jerk?’ ‘You bet it does!’ came the semi-unanimous chorus. A bracing stream of vitriol was directed mostly at cyclists, especially those who wear Lycra, though I no doubt let motorists off lightly by not giving the cycling brigade the opportunity to respond in kind to their fellow road-users.
While Brian Murdoch, Basil Ransome-Davies, Paul Griffin and Martin Elster were unlucky losers, this week’s king of the road is D.A. Prince, who nabs the bonus fiver. The other winners, printed below, earn £25 apiece.
May he who rides unlit at night
On pavements in the dark
Ignite into a blazing streak
Of scorching fire and spark;
May all his joints be turning,
From head down to his heel,
In cycles of eternal pain —
Perpetual Catherine Wheel;
May he who never troubles
To sound his warning bell
Be maddened, tortured, deafened,
With tinnitus of Hell.
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