Poncing about?

I was accused by a fellow cyclist of being a “ponce” yesterday.

Although I have probably used the word a few times in my youth for sad macho effect, I have never really been certain what a “ponce” is........ well at least he spurred me to find out.

ponce [pɒns] Derogatory slang chiefly Brit n - A man given to ostentatious or effeminate display in manners, speech, dress, etc.

So there it was staring me in black and white. I can only imagine that to this lycra clad fellow traveller on two wheels, wearing moleskin trousers, a tweed jacket, polished brogues and a matching tweed baker boy cap while riding a sleek black Pashley Sovereign is to be ostentatious and effeminate in manner and dress at one and the same time,...... for I had uttered not a word.

As he scampered off across the red light, giving two fingers to a car with the audacity to turn left on a green one...... I prepared myself for action. Damn him I thought.

Putting the Pashley into second gear I put my head down and shot across the junction just as soon as the traffic light permitted me, moving swiftly into 4^th and spinning the new MKS Dutch Style rubber pedals (http://www.sjscycles.co.uk/) for all I was worth. The road was flat .....Mr Lurid-Lycra was twirling his pedals nonchalantly about half a mile ahead readjusting his man-bag. Left into a main road he went oblivious of the crazed lunatic in tweed storming up behind him on a veritable cycling behemoth! I got to the junction just as the lights went amber.....and like a crazed maniac I shot left after him.

His sixth sense must have got the better of him because he glanced behind and saw “the ponce” racing up behind. I’m not sure if his motivation was fear or fame but in the spirit of retreat or competition he re-doubled his effort and the distance between us steadied a trifle. The good thing from my point of view was that road works up ahead had divested the road surface of its mirrored shine and a scouring machine had taken the top surface off the carriageway. Stripped down street racers seem to have a degree of difficulty negotiating a less than ideal roadway and the gritty grooved surface seemed to upset the chaps’ equilibrium a trifle. Not so the Pash....on it strode eating up the road dismissive of both groove and gravel,........ we were gaining on him now......most prodigiously!

And then I suppose I wondered what I would do when I got up to him? Was this any way for a gentleman to behave? Could I, who considers himself a gentleman, have cast aside good manners and become a raging beast, with malice aforethought, ready to run the enemy down and crush him beneath the wheels, bones splintering in the wake of the spokes and chain-guard? Besides....I was beginning to get a trifle warm, and the claret at lunchtime had obviously been rather more quaffable than I had imagined. In addition I needed to get across to Chelsea to meet up with a rather charming female cyclist of my acquaintance at her mews cottage for some afternoon delight.

He may have felt I was a “ponce”, indeed it might be that I looked like a “ponce”, perhaps I really am a “ponce”...... but in the afternoon I would be doing lashings of horizontal gymnastics in the arms of an angel and he, poor thing, would be slaving about on his courier bike earning a crust..........and rain had been forecast.

For whatever reason I slowed, .....up ahead the man with the stop/go board turned it towards us..... STOP!

I did.

Mr Lurid-Lycra looked back and rather neatly whipped his bike up onto the pavement and avoiding pedestrians, disappeared into the middle distance. I could just make out his bright pink cycle jacket and skin tight leggings with the pair of voluminous khaki shorts over the top of them....... looking to all intents and purposes like a..........well, if truth be told,.....looking like a bit of a “ponce”.