The Sparke Evans Incident
Last Sunday I was intending to go for a bike ride with Paul Holyday through the new twin tunnels bike path in Combe Down. What with one thing and another we didn't make it as Pauls third eldest had announced a burning need to take up rugby the week before and had promptly been picked for a match on Sunday.
I spent Sunday mooching about in a sort of disconsolate way, putting stepping stones in the chicken pen to try and make the coming winter a bit easier. The pen turns into a heaving morass of mud and chicken shit and is the cause of many an argument about who is letting them out or putting them away. At least with some paving slabs to walk on it won't be quite so horrific.
We made a decision that we would do our bike ride after work on Tuesday. Paul messaged me and there was a protracted thread trying to establish where exactly I had parked the van so we could meet up.
I had to meet Paul at 1520 and my van was only ten minutes away so I had a leisurely ride over and waited in the van for Paul to arrive, 1520, no sign, I kept looking at each car that approached but to no avail, by 1530 I guessed that he didn't have a clue where I was so I rang him and sure enough he was at Temple Quay and I was in Whitehouse Lane, after a bit of negotiation we decided to meet outside Helen's workplace on Mead St between the two.
So this was a tandem bike ride, yeah,yeah, I know two blokes on a tandem, definitely gay. Hauled the new, well new to me anyway, Thorn out of the back of the van and we had a go up and down Mead St. Something you need to be aware of, the Thorn is a kiddiback tandem and Paul is six foot and fourteen stone. I've put a long reach seat post on the bike and set the saddle as far back on the rails as I can so it can take an adult, just. We set off down Mead St wobbling somewhat but not a problem.
Cross the main Wells Road by Fowlers and set off toward the St Phillips Greenway, more wobbling and Paul screaming like a girl as we lurch toward the traffic. Finally make it to the cycle path on Cattle Market Rd and from there to the Greenway.
Luckily the Greenway is fairly sparsely populated and we concentrated on trying to get the tandem to stay in a straight line and not taking out the odd granny out for a walk with her Yorkshire terrier.
We're doing well by now and head into Sparke Evans Park. Now, under the steps of the bridge in the park is a little room that is obviously used by druggies and the homeless at night. It is the ideal place for a mugger to lie in wait for passing victims.
As we enter the park I see a flicker of movement by the bridge, someone was the other side, inside the room watching us approaching and obviously trying to stay out of sight.
I said to Paul,
"What do you reckon, are we about to be mugged?"
"No-one is going to rob two blokes on a tandem"
"We're on a tandem, obviously gay! We're the ideal target"
"Let's just see what he does"
This was alright for Paul to say he's six foot and built like a brick shit house, whereas I am severely lacking in physical prowess not to mention I'm on the front of the tandem and the ungodly are going to accost me before Paul.
We cycle down the path and I can see that we are definitely being watched, as we start to pass the bridge I swing out to the far side of the cycle path to put as much room as possible between us and the putative mugger. As we reach the entrance to the druggies den a man in his thirties with a full beard and wearing a hoodie steps out onto the path.
This however is not the first impression, no the lasting impression that is still with me as I write this is the fact he was completely naked from the waist down, swinging as it were, comfortably in the breeze. If Paul and I had been playing for the other side this may have been a bonus, however my reaction was to swerve, scream and promptly fall off the bike.
As Paul and I were disentangling ourselves from the tandem the man was gibbering at us in a welsh accent.
"Oh God, please can you help, no one else has stopped."
Well to be perfectly honest neither had we, technically, his unclothed manhood had caused me to crash.
Paul and I looked at each other and studiously avoided looking anywhere below the waist on our new found friend.
"What happened?" I asked not sure I actually wanted to know.
"My fucking so called friends happened, we came over from Cardiff yesterday and we went on the lash last night and I woke up in the park this morning like this with no phone and no money", he looked really desperate "I've been here for the last 8 hours trying to persuade someone to help"
"Well we haven't got any spare trousers if that's what you're after"
He looked like he was nearly in tears, "Is there anything you can do?"
I had a bit of a think, "Tell you what there's a shopping centre just up ahead, if you stay here out of sight we'll see what we can do"
Paul and I rode off trying not to cackle too loudly and then I turned round and went back
"What size are you mate?" Hastily adding "Shoes and trousers that is?"
We set off again and made our way up into Avon Meads shopping centre
"Do you think he's telling the truth?"
"God knows, but we can't leave him like that"
In the end we went over to Sainsbury's and managed to buy a pair of trousers and the cheapest shoes we could find and cycled back down into the park.
We made our way down to the bridge and he popped out of the druggie den like an inappropriately attired troll.
"Here you go mate." I handed him the clothes and he immediately put the trousers on with a look of huge relief. "You going to be OK now"
"Yeah my girlfriends parents live over in Easton I can go over there and sort myself out"
"Alright, cheers then" We made to go and he said "Can I get your number or something so I can pay you back"
"Don't worry about it, just pass the favour on sometime", to be perfectly honest he still looked incredibly dodgy and I wasn't about to give him my phone number.
Paul and I set off back towards town and decided to take a trip over the suspension bridge and down through Ashton Court, in a state of highly bemused mirth. By the time that we were heading down through Aston Court Paul was complaining more and more vociferously that he was being anally violated by the saddle and it was worse than anything that any sartorially challenged naked mugger could possibly do.
Eventually we made our way to the Falafel King in the centre where we indulged in middle eastern street food and rested Pauls sorely abused rectum.
All in all the weirdest bike ride I have ever been on.
I spent Sunday mooching about in a sort of disconsolate way, putting stepping stones in the chicken pen to try and make the coming winter a bit easier. The pen turns into a heaving morass of mud and chicken shit and is the cause of many an argument about who is letting them out or putting them away. At least with some paving slabs to walk on it won't be quite so horrific.
We made a decision that we would do our bike ride after work on Tuesday. Paul messaged me and there was a protracted thread trying to establish where exactly I had parked the van so we could meet up.
I had to meet Paul at 1520 and my van was only ten minutes away so I had a leisurely ride over and waited in the van for Paul to arrive, 1520, no sign, I kept looking at each car that approached but to no avail, by 1530 I guessed that he didn't have a clue where I was so I rang him and sure enough he was at Temple Quay and I was in Whitehouse Lane, after a bit of negotiation we decided to meet outside Helen's workplace on Mead St between the two.
So this was a tandem bike ride, yeah,yeah, I know two blokes on a tandem, definitely gay. Hauled the new, well new to me anyway, Thorn out of the back of the van and we had a go up and down Mead St. Something you need to be aware of, the Thorn is a kiddiback tandem and Paul is six foot and fourteen stone. I've put a long reach seat post on the bike and set the saddle as far back on the rails as I can so it can take an adult, just. We set off down Mead St wobbling somewhat but not a problem.
Cross the main Wells Road by Fowlers and set off toward the St Phillips Greenway, more wobbling and Paul screaming like a girl as we lurch toward the traffic. Finally make it to the cycle path on Cattle Market Rd and from there to the Greenway.
Luckily the Greenway is fairly sparsely populated and we concentrated on trying to get the tandem to stay in a straight line and not taking out the odd granny out for a walk with her Yorkshire terrier.
We're doing well by now and head into Sparke Evans Park. Now, under the steps of the bridge in the park is a little room that is obviously used by druggies and the homeless at night. It is the ideal place for a mugger to lie in wait for passing victims.
As we enter the park I see a flicker of movement by the bridge, someone was the other side, inside the room watching us approaching and obviously trying to stay out of sight.
I said to Paul,
"What do you reckon, are we about to be mugged?"
"No-one is going to rob two blokes on a tandem"
"We're on a tandem, obviously gay! We're the ideal target"
"Let's just see what he does"
This was alright for Paul to say he's six foot and built like a brick shit house, whereas I am severely lacking in physical prowess not to mention I'm on the front of the tandem and the ungodly are going to accost me before Paul.
We cycle down the path and I can see that we are definitely being watched, as we start to pass the bridge I swing out to the far side of the cycle path to put as much room as possible between us and the putative mugger. As we reach the entrance to the druggies den a man in his thirties with a full beard and wearing a hoodie steps out onto the path.
This however is not the first impression, no the lasting impression that is still with me as I write this is the fact he was completely naked from the waist down, swinging as it were, comfortably in the breeze. If Paul and I had been playing for the other side this may have been a bonus, however my reaction was to swerve, scream and promptly fall off the bike.
As Paul and I were disentangling ourselves from the tandem the man was gibbering at us in a welsh accent.
"Oh God, please can you help, no one else has stopped."
Well to be perfectly honest neither had we, technically, his unclothed manhood had caused me to crash.
Paul and I looked at each other and studiously avoided looking anywhere below the waist on our new found friend.
"What happened?" I asked not sure I actually wanted to know.
"My fucking so called friends happened, we came over from Cardiff yesterday and we went on the lash last night and I woke up in the park this morning like this with no phone and no money", he looked really desperate "I've been here for the last 8 hours trying to persuade someone to help"
"Well we haven't got any spare trousers if that's what you're after"
He looked like he was nearly in tears, "Is there anything you can do?"
I had a bit of a think, "Tell you what there's a shopping centre just up ahead, if you stay here out of sight we'll see what we can do"
Paul and I rode off trying not to cackle too loudly and then I turned round and went back
"What size are you mate?" Hastily adding "Shoes and trousers that is?"
We set off again and made our way up into Avon Meads shopping centre
"Do you think he's telling the truth?"
"God knows, but we can't leave him like that"
In the end we went over to Sainsbury's and managed to buy a pair of trousers and the cheapest shoes we could find and cycled back down into the park.
We made our way down to the bridge and he popped out of the druggie den like an inappropriately attired troll.
"Here you go mate." I handed him the clothes and he immediately put the trousers on with a look of huge relief. "You going to be OK now"
"Yeah my girlfriends parents live over in Easton I can go over there and sort myself out"
"Alright, cheers then" We made to go and he said "Can I get your number or something so I can pay you back"
"Don't worry about it, just pass the favour on sometime", to be perfectly honest he still looked incredibly dodgy and I wasn't about to give him my phone number.
Paul and I set off back towards town and decided to take a trip over the suspension bridge and down through Ashton Court, in a state of highly bemused mirth. By the time that we were heading down through Aston Court Paul was complaining more and more vociferously that he was being anally violated by the saddle and it was worse than anything that any sartorially challenged naked mugger could possibly do.
Eventually we made our way to the Falafel King in the centre where we indulged in middle eastern street food and rested Pauls sorely abused rectum.All in all the weirdest bike ride I have ever been on.
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