Tripleshot Cycling

The ABCs of Not Riding Like a Dick*

A is for Asshole: “A” fast, and “A” tough,
Yet rides with the B’s, to show off his stuff.
It’s all manly proof like the sprint of today’s,
Steve farts at the B’s then upgrades to the A’s.

B is for Bonehead, who’s lithe and who’s quick,
Yet sandbags the ride, as we all mumble “dick.”
We know what he’s got, as he pushes the pace,
But he’s also a twat, every ride is a race.

C is for Cock, as in Cock-a-doodle-do,
Preening his feathers while laughing at you.
We finish the sprint, the B’s barely alive,
Considerate Steve snorts “Rule # Five!”


*This term should not be used lightly, but today its use was upheld and endorsed by our President Emeritus, Sir Peter Lawless, who when explained what Steve did this morning, shelling the B’s and then joining the A’s, levied this fine judgement: “Yeah, that sounds like a dick. Everyone knows you always dance with the one who brung ya.”

For what it's worth he was nowhere near the sprint with the As.
At least from my view.

Methinks that some of us have been taking our (truth be told) totally-frickin-meaningless-in-the-bigass-picture-scheme-of-things sprints waaaaayyyyyy too seriously of late.

Sorry, I didn't have time to compose this as a sonnet or to spend my afternoon drawing it as Strava graffiti.

J.

It's okay, John. I'll take it from here...

The ABCs of Not Whining Like a Pantywaist

A is for Alan: a blubbering sissy
Askew on his Brooks, oh so dainty and prissy.
Gets dropped every time and has fits hot and hissy
Through panting and gasping and moods glum and pissy!

B is for blah-blah – those noises he mutters –
Inaudible grunts as he wheezes and sputters.
“W–w–wait up for me!” he predictably stutters
Though we all disregard every word that he utters.

C’s for curmudgeon, the heighth of unhappy –
A big ol’ crybaby in cleats and a nappy.
He hurls C-grade verse when he’s feelin’ all scrappy
But his poems, like his riding, are feeble and crappy.

D’s for a group that suits poor Alan’s pace
Like an octogenarian one-legged race.
As grannies attack, he might just win the chase!
It’s the only way, Alan, you’ll ever save face.

"General Banter" does not do justice to Steve and Alan's poetry slam. I suggest a new "Sweet Trash Talk" section on the forum.

Alan and Steve. Dr Ferrari called. He said you might need to back off the testosterone and maybe up the growth hormone.

Lister Farrar wrote:Alan and Steve. Dr Ferrari called. He said you might need to back off the testosterone and maybe up the growth hormone.

You misheard. He said "Steve should share some of his testosterone with Alan, who clearly needs to dial it back on the estrogen therapy. Didn't anyone tell the poor guy that male menopause calls for different treatment than female menopause?"

Steve and Alan...

Thanks for your entertainment,
And also for reminding me that you are Two of my best lead-out MEN! pc

I thought I was your favourite lead out man