Rococo capitalism - the manufacture and consumption of the completely unnecessary - surely reaches a morbidly-accessorised apotheosis in the figure of the Australian Weekend Cyclist replete with the overt symptoms of Obsessive Lycra Disorder: longish shorts which appear to feature a replete colostomy bag at the rear, shirts spattered in faux Tour/Giro advertising, cleated footwear, ineffective helmets, innumerable plastic bottles and tubes, rudeness to cafe staff and non-cycling patrons, road sanctimony, and complete lack of awareness that the rest of the amateur cycling world, particularly the Europeans, find the entire antipodean pose preposterous.
Is it no longer possible to just ride a bike?
As if that wasn't bad enough, where does all the lycra - and accumulated secretions - end up? In that huge plastic gyre in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. It's enough to make a fish sick.
Off with their heads!
That's all for now.