On your bike, son

I've spent much of my life on various demos, chanted 'Maggie, Maggie, Maggie, Out Out Out' in my sleep, know all the words to 'Bandiera Rossa' in the original Italian and steadfastly refuse to drink wine unless it's a Beaujolais, Shiraz or Pinot Noir.

Red.

I'm telling you, if you opened up my veins, you'd find I bleed crimson.

Lately however, I've been thinking that maybe Norman Tebbit had it right.

'Get on your bike', you might remember old Norm nearly saying, 'and go out and look for work'.

To be honest, the looking for work part, I'm not too sure about. And the underlying philosophy that suggests anyone unemployed is by definition, a hopeless work-shy bludger, I definitely don't buy.

The getting on your bike bit, however, is, I'd say, slap bang on the money.

I've never quite understood why politicians have never embraced the concept of cycling.

I mean, when you think about it, cycling has all the answers.

The steady, inexorable decline in public health and overburden on medical services due to falling fitness levels?

Get on your bike.

Rampant pollution with our cities and towns in imminent danger of being suffocated by noxious Carbon Monoxide?

Throw your leg over those handlebars.

Traffic jam gridlock, inner city congestion and frustrating road rage?

Strap on some bicycle clips. Think of them as cufflinks for the now generation.

Who am I kidding? There is one glaring, obvious explanation why no two-bit party apparatchik in a cheap tie and bad hairstyle doesn't advocate cycling.

There's simply no money in it, not in the short term at any rate. And, of course, the oil companies won't like it.

See the oil conglomerates and various world Governments have what can only be called a hugger mugger relationship.

In other words, the Governments do the hugging, leaving the oil boys free to do all the mugging.

Cycling on a massive scale would put a ugly big dent in those petrol profits, so it stands to reason that no one from the major parties would ever be permitted to put themselves forward as its advocate.

Cynicism?

No not really, just a touch of arthritis.

Despite a flagrant lack of support on the political front, however, the tide is nevertheless turning.

Here in Melbourne, the bicycle, if not exactly king is definitely highly regarded. Squads of cyclists head in and out of town at all times of the day and night and whilst a little bit of civic commitment would improve things no end, there are more and more cycleways and paths being developed every year.

Admittedly, the weather in Melbourne, being better than in Glasgow helps, but as someone once said, there is actually no such thing as bad weather, merely the wrong clothing.

Having said that, when it comes to the wrong clothing, there is nothing quite as wrong as lycra.

If you're a professional cyclist, or weigh less than seven stone soaking wet, you can just about get away with lycra, but even then it's debatable.

For anyone else, especially those with more than a few lumps, bumps and clumps, it's a definite no-no.

MAMILS, they're known as here - Middle-aged Men in Lycra - a derogatory term which serves as shorthand for the less enigmatic, far clunkier but entirely unambiguous FFWSWATT - Fat fellas who simply won't admit the truth.

Stretchy spandex aside, cycling really is a decent transport option. Welcome on the train if the distance is too onerous - (you'll get the odd commuter demurring but that's to be expected), you can even cheat and fit a small electric motor to your bike if you're finding the hills too much of a struggle.

Round my way not only the postman but the bloke who delivers bread to cafes rides a pushy and I've lost count of the amount of young parents perambulating around with junior being towed by a trailer contraption type thing.

Zipping in and out of the traffic as you approach the lights is a joy that has to be experienced even though, cities being cities, the frustration of gridlocked car drivers does tend to lead to the occasional angry exchange.

Cyclists of course, being irredeemably righteous individuals as a whole, don't take this sort of intimation lying down however, leading to periodic road rage incidents which can, unfortunately become somewhat ugly.

In no way do I condone this sort of behaviour, but I must report that by way of retaliation, a messianic bike rider of my acquaintance has taken to outfitting his ride with sharpened spikes on the outside of his wheels with a view to inflicting collateral damage on the tyres of stationary cars.

In fact, he's thinking of patenting the design.

He's calling it, you guessed it: The Vicious Cycle.

Thank you, I'm here all week.