The only way to survive as a cyclist is to behave like you’re suicidal

I wonder how many cyclists are killed in London during tube strikes? I had a 10 a.m. meeting in the West End on Tuesday that I couldn’t cancel so made the seven-and-a-half-mile journey by bike. It was hairy, to put it mildly.

You’d think it would be safer cycling in London when the tube’s not running because the traffic is almost stationary. But it isn’t, thanks to the above average number of cyclists. I found myself constantly having to overtake people, most of whom were too cautious to weave in and out of the traffic like me. The danger came when they’d gingerly poke their noses out in between cars, completely oblivious to the maniac bearing down on them at breakneck speed. I almost killed at least half a dozen people.

I’ve been cycling in London for over 25 years and, counter-intuitively, am less law abiding today than I was as a young man. When I started out I used to scrupulously observe all the rules, stopping at roundabouts and zebra crossings and never once running a red light. The problem was, because I was a responsible road user I expected everyone else to be one too. A typical bicycle journey would involve me getting more and more worked up as motorists, pedestrians and other cyclists blithely ignored the laws I was obeying. I was knocked off, on average, once a month. Eventually, after I spent a night in Chelsea and Westminster having my face stitched back together, the penny dropped. I’d be better off if I just assumed that every other road user was a complete nutter. And the best way to guarantee I carried on thinking like that and didn’t slip back into complacency was to become a complete nutter myself.