Some painful home truths for cyclists

IF ever there was proof that we had reached peak outrage then it came this week when Sir Chris Hoy had to apologise for saying anyone heavier than eight stone looked “awful” in tight-fitting cycling gear.

The six-time Olympic champion had made the tongue-in-cheek comment in a style column for GQ magazine. Hoy added that he felt sorry for mamils – middle-aged men in Lycra – because people snigger at them in cafes.

Many people took umbrage at these remarks. Although to be honest, I’m not convinced Hoy has said anything that could be considered wildly inaccurate.

It’s a modern day fable of the Emperor’s New Clothes and Hoy is the child in the crowd who does what no one else dares: speaks the truth.

When he wrote that “wearing a full Team Sky racing kit” makes “most cyclists look as ridiculous as an overweight football fan wearing the shirt of his favourite club for a pub five-a-side game” Hoy was spot-on.

Ditto his observation about avoiding white shorts. “They’re terribly unflattering (from the front, men look like a percentage sign) and become see-through when wet.” Preach, Sir Chris!

As a chubby, middle-aged woman who owns a bike I wasn’t offended in the slightest. For a start, Hoy is probably one of the nicest men you will meet and wholly without malice.

Secondly, in the haste to grab their pitchforks and torches, most folk entirely overlooked the point he was trying to make which is that you don’t need to look like you work on a building site (dressed in head-to-toe high-viz) or about to make a bid for Olympic glory (full-on Lycra ensemble) to cycle.

Hoy’s comments were geared at getting more bums on saddles. Instead he’s been vilified for what has been perceived as snide body-shaming.

There was good reason for Hoy going all Gok Wan on us. He was saying there is no need to dress up in fancy garb (aka all the gear and no idea) to pedal a bike. It’s not all about sport. Cycling is a cheap, environmentally-friendly and healthy means to get from A to B.

Sadly, the world heard: “Hoy hates fatties”.

The man himself has since taken to Twitter to apologise saying that as a 14 plus stone mamil himself, the article wasn’t meant to offend. “I’m really sorry,” he said. “Reading it back it looks harsh and that wasn’t my intention. Whatever your age/build, if you are on a bike you have my respect.”

It pains me that Hoy had to go cap in hand to the baying mob. This isn’t rocket science. If you are riding a 100-mile sportive then, by all means, a bit of activity appropriate gear is essential.

But pootling down to the shops for a pint of milk? A custom-made skinsuit and an aerodynamic helmet are a tad overkill, I’m afraid.

It’s a bit like saying don’t wear a ballgown to clean the bath. No doubt people would have deluged Hoy with pictures of themselves swathed in acres of chiffon as they pulled on rubber gloves and got the Jif out to give the grouting a good old scrub.

I don’t want it to seem like I’m exclusively picking on cyclists here. The same can apply to the burgeoning phenomenon of those wearing fancy activewear to do not-very-active things. Like standing at a bus stop or lounging on the sofa to watch Emmerdale.

You will have seen them in the supermarket in their expensive-looking leggings and matching crop top, juggling purses, jangling car keys and trendy cartons of coconut water like a Crackerjack contestant (decent sized pockets are a no-no with activewear).

But back to cycling. There is a school of thought that seeing someone on a bike in full kit can actually dehumanise them. Fellow road users no longer see a person, they instead see a cyclist.

Cyclist is a word that in some quarters – sadly – carries the same connotations as mosquito or plague of vermin with people on bikes not viewed as a fellow mother, father, sister, brother, husband, wife, aunt, cousin, but rather an irksome pest.

In countries like Denmark, Germany and the Netherlands where cycling culture is as much part of life as going for a coffee or brushing your teeth, people pedal about in everyday clothing. There is no fuss, wardrobe anxiety or anyone calling our greatest Olympian a body fascist.

That’s not to say that those who want to wear cycling gear shouldn’t. I’ve long been an advocate of wear whatever the hell you like on a bike.

But I do take exception at people being unable to take a joke and then using that as a stick to beat a man who has been at the heart of our nation’s cycling revolution.

No soggy bottom on Bake Off

THE Great British Bake Off returned to our television screens and much to the chagrin of the naysayers it didn’t flop like a badly-made souffle as it welcomed viewers to its new Channel 4 home.

Mary Berry, Mel Giedroyc and Sue Perkins may no longer be at the helm of the good ship GBBO, but by the first ad break (yes, there are ad breaks now) I had almost forgotten all about them.

The traitorous Paul Hollywood (the only remaining presenter from the BBC line-up) was there all twinkly-eyed and silver fox-esque alongside a new trinity of Prue Leith, Sandi Toksvig and Noel Fielding, the latter looking like the hipster nephew of the Child Catcher and Willy Wonka.

It was good fun. I liked the “illusion cakes”, particularly the one that was meant to be a terrarium but ended up looking like mouldy Tupperware box.

The attempts to scuttle GBBO keep coming, however, with the latest rumour that the show’s bosses reportedly hired comic scriptwriters to make sure Toksvig and Fielding were a hit with fans.

It begs the question: why? I’m not a fan of the laboured, fruity jokes that have become a GBBO staple. If I wanted smutty innuendos, I would watch re-runs of ‘Allo ‘Allo!

Dino neighbours making a din

THERE were grumbles in the leafy west end of Glasgow when noisy new neighbours moved in.

Rather than the latest influx of university freshers (that will be next month’s gripe) or squawking seagulls (an angst-filled thread on Reddit last month), the source of copious hand-wringing was a group of dinosaurs.

The roaring animatronic creatures are part of touring exhibition Jurassic Kingdom which has set up shop in Glasgow Botanic Gardens until next weekend.

The show contains 30 full-scale models from the Jurassic, Triassic and Cretaceous periods complete with snarling teeth, swivelling eyes, swaying tails and spine-chilling sound effects.

Residents complained that the bellowing beasts had them driven to distraction. The dinosaurs were making noise into the wee small hours of 8pm. The organisers apologised and vowed to adjust the volume control.

Rumours of a growing campaign for the area to be encased in a soundproof and fun-free bubble are as yet unconfirmed.