Mr Cyclist

Move over incels, there is a new oppressed minority in town: the road cyclist. By day, Terry is a mild-mannered physiotherapist that lives on a plant-based diet. But by peak commute times Terry is the Cycle-nator 2000.

Armed with a GoPro and the suppressed rage of a school shooter playing Duck Hunt with a faulty Nintendo pistol, Terry is waging war on aggressive drivers.

No longer will he be bullied into Government provided bike paths. No longer will he stick left to allow a safe overpass.

This is 2021, and he isn’t going to sit behind the back of the god damn bus, ya heard?

The Rosa Parks of mid-life crises has one natural predator: the Ute driver. The kind of man that has escalated his irritation of cyclists into full-blown homicidal hatred.

The kind of man to kick a Quokka and laugh like a locally anaesthetised Forrest Gump getting a root canal.

Terry leaves his practice and is riding home. An old boy leaning forward in his Corolla squinting like a pensioner at an Amsterdam coffee shop bingo board comes within 1.5m of his bike.

The red mist of lycra-mooseknuckling comes over him, “OI WATCH IT SHITFABRAINNNSSSS”.

Terry is satisfied in giving this driver an official verbal warning. He continues in the middle of the left lane on Mounts Bay Road.

Like the theme music to Jaws, Terry hears the ominous bass of Aussie Hip Hop coming up behind him. Like a surfer having her period, Terry knows he is a sitting duck.

A HiLux complete with Aussie flags still attached accelerates and overtakes Terry coming within 1.2m of Terry’s bike.

Terry pumps himself up like Lance Armstrong’s veins and accelerates to meet the driver at the lights.

He pulls up beside the HiLux driver, momentarily turns off his GoPro and then boots the side mirror clean off.

GoPro back on, he dismounts and confronts the driver “YOU TRYING TO KILL ME CUUUUUUNNNNNNNT?”

The driver is perplexed, “Mate I was nowhere near you, ride on the bike path you are holding up traffic”.

Terry feels the rage of a thirsty African at an out-of-service coloured drinking fountain and goes Apartheid on his arse:


Unlucky for Terry, the HiLux driver is fresh off his latest win at the Gate after his last fight, “I’m gonna make your dick piss registration fees mate”. What follows is two grown men punching on over the spilt milk of pettiness.

Later that night, Terry cherry picks the best footage for his narrative and uploads it to Facebook.

The oppression of his people continues. Spare a dollar for Cuntworld vision and feed Terry’s ego for another day.

Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?