A to B: How not to die on a bike in London

Hayley Campbell is inexplicably still living. She shares her tips on how to master this impressive feat yourself.

I’ve been a cyclist in central London for almost two years and I am not yet dead.

This is probably statistically rare given I am 20-something and female, and when thinking back over my first year it certainly feels like an unlikely outcome. Look at me typing on the internet. I could be dead instead of doing this but somehow I’m not. Either I'm invincible or I have learned how not to die. Since I burn myself every single time I make toast, I can assume the invincibility theory is bogus, so it must be the latter. 

I feel I should share my discoveries. If you’re going to jump on a bike and head out into London, these are the things you need to know that you won’t find in any guidebook:

1. The most dangerous person on the road is the suit on a Boris bike. Avoid him. He is the first move in every Rube Goldberg-esque pile-up. The last time the suit on a Boris bike was on a bike he was eight and he fell off. Now he’s loose on the open road and has no idea where he’s going but he’s a businessman and he gets stuff done so he’s going to do it anyway. You know what these people are like, you’ve seen The Apprentice. Grade A bullshitters. He goes the wrong way down one-way streets, he goes straight down the centre of a two-lane bike path. When correcting him you are summarily told to "fuck off" and reminded that he earns more than you do. (NB. This could also be straight up “Boris Johnson on a Boris bike”. Political.)

2. The second most dangerous person on the road is probably HGVs but really it’s a toss-up between the bone-crushing huge vehicles that glide over steel bike frames/fleshy humans and “the lady with the billowing skirt who obviously has not seen that documentary about Isadora Duncan”. Avoid both. The lady with the skirt will crash because she is i. attempting to tuck her skirt between her legs instead of looking where she’s going, or ii. her skirt will become entwined in the chain and she will fall over exactly sideways and become inextricable from her bicycle. She will take down everyone in a 20-foot radius and will blame everyone but herself.

3. The new cyclist about London will learn that there is a lot of buttcrack in this city. Miles of buttcrack hang out of London trousers every day of the year. Even February.

4. The new cyclist will learn (eventually, emphatically) that “bicycle maintenance” is not just a thing for other people. If something is going weird on your bike – wobbling or making a strange noise – investigate. This might involve taking it to a person who knows better and just coming clean, ignorance-wise. Do not think “it’ll probably be fine” because it definitely won’t be, and do not under any circumstances “MacGyver” a solution. If you do not sort this out properly your bike will collapse beneath you after something important snaps off (for instance) and you will smash your face in on an Islington footpath (for instance) and leave a blood-based Jackson Pollock street-painting behind when the ambulance come to take your concussed ass to hospital (for instance). Buy a book or do a google. Buy a tool or two.

5. Cherish your teeth and eat crunchy food while you still can. Avoid soup and porridge so that when you have to spend six months eating only soup and porridge you can handle it without turning to suicide. For instance.

6. Think about your crash position now before it happens. When it does happen, don’t scream. Teeth are surprisingly durable but only when covered by lips, and dental work is more expensive than you can possibly imagine. To put it in the terms that hit home for me: dental work is "two overdrafts and you have to phone your parents" expensive.  

7. Find a dentist who is endlessly weird-looking so you don’t get bored of seeing his face twice a week for half a year.

8. You can never have enough locks. Two, minimum. London bikes work like umbrellas in that you never actually own one, you just occupy it briefly in a time-share scenario. Love your bike but know it will eventually leave you just like everything else.

9. People in cars have no idea how long their car’s nose is and will stick that nose right out into the middle of your bike lane. Or whatever that thing at the front of a car is called. I don’t know, I don’t drive, I have a bike.

10. You will find yourself hating one of the finest inventions of all time: the wheelie suitcase. Dragged behind tourists in Bloomsbury, this suitcase is always left in the middle of the cycle lane long after the tourist itself has leapt out of the way. Tourists do not see it as an extension of themselves. The tourist believes they are not defined by their tour/carry-on.

11. Just because someone is wearing more Lycra that you does not mean they’re a more experienced rider, it just means they bought more Lycra than you. See also: artists with better tools, leather portfolios; writers with Moleskines. Do not follow this person’s lead on the road, they are lost.

12. Nurses treat you better if you were wearing a helmet when it all went wrong. Even if the helmet actively made your injuries worse, the nurse is slightly less likely to badmouth you to the doctor inspecting your face/remains of your mouth. Wear a helmet but know it’s for nurses, not your own head.

13. Black cab drivers want you dead. Once a year a black cab driver will scream out of a passing window a sentence along the lines of “I HOPE YOU FUCKING DIE YOU CUNT” just to remind you of their feelings. The last time I was in a black cab I actually sat in a puddle of cold human semen, so: black cabs, the feeling is pretty mutual.

14. Related: There is a man in London with "FUCK" tattooed down one calf and "TAXIS" down the other. He wears shorts all winter and even Michael Fish can forecast how he is going to die.

15. Nobody likes the guy on the fixie bike who balances at the lights. Put your foot down. We’re grown-ups. We’re not playing that game where the ground is lava.

16. On any given ride you will invariably encounter two women cycling side by side, chatting, taking up the entire road with their slow-moving floral basket machines. If you hang back for a minute you can catch one slapping the other in the face when they both indicate right.

17. Pedestrians never look where they’re going. Like, never. You will spend your first year marvelling at the confidence with which they stride into the road looking at their phones or run right out into intersections unexpectedly. You will spend the rest of your life dodging them and wondering when they’ll notice how close to death they just came. They won’t. My mum once gave me a piece of advice: “Assume everyone else is an idiot”. I can’t remember what it was for or about (maybe dudes, condoms) but I’ve repurposed it for cycling in London.

19. Your first year on a bike is terrifying but brilliant. You learn how London fits together. You realise you can propel your feeble human body from one end of it to the other for no money and get less fat doing it. A day of errands becomes an hour of errands. There are reasons bike couriers exist: it takes them a fraction of the time it takes someone in a car to do it, or someone on legs or in a bus or tube. Being on a bike in London is one of the most liberating things in the world: it’s as close to wings or a jetpack as we’re going to get until those scientists stop mooching about and make us some cooler stuff.

But at the end of your first year you will wear this expression almost permanently. Shocked and appalled, over and over and over and over. 

Unless you’re dead or your face is broken and you can’t make any expressions at all. All of which are possible.

This piece is part of A to B, the New Statesman's week of posts about transport.

The bike of Andrew Mitchell MP. Photograph: Getty Images

Hayley Campbell writes for a number of publications, but then who doesn't. You should follow her on Twitter: @hayleycampbell.

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Far from being a leftwing radical, Jeremy Corbyn is slouching towards Milibandism

Most of the Corbynite agenda can be found in the pages of Britain Can Be Better, the party’s 2015 manifesto.

A pair of boxing gloves hangs in the office of Benoît Hamon, the Socialist candidate for the French presidency – not because the diminutive left-winger faces a fight to keep his party relevant, let alone in government (some surveys show him in fifth place), but because of his affection for Muhammad Ali, whose poster adorns one of the walls of his sophisticated, modern office. During his against-the-odds run for the Socialists’ presidential nomination, he likened himself to Jeremy Corbyn, as did his opponents. Though the comparison added a note of optimism to his long-shot bid, now that he is ensconced at the top of his party it is Corbyn, rather than Hamon, who is flattered by the comparison.

A casual observer of Hamon’s open-plan headquarters in Château d’Eau, a gentrify­ing area near the centre of Paris, might mistake it for the home of a tech start-up rather than that of a party that is more than a century old. Someone visiting Corbyn’s offices at Norman Shaw South in the Palace of Westminster, or the Labour Party’s headquarters a few minutes down the road, would have no such difficulties.

Although the demolition of its Miliband-era offices forced the move to the new digs, Labour’s organisational structures and campaigning approach remain firmly rooted in the world that Ed Miliband built. The offices of the leader of the opposition, too, are little changed since Miliband vacated them.

It’s not only the buildings that have a Miliband-era look to them. Labour’s policies do, too. For all that Corbyn is battered in the right-wing press for his “hard-left” past, his present is mired in the programme of his predecessor.

Most of the Corbynite agenda can be found in the pages of Britain Can Be Better, the party’s 2015 manifesto. A pledge to ban zero-hours contracts appears on page 27. A commitment to undo the Conservatives’ reforms to the National Health Service is on page 34, and a pledge to ensure parity of esteem for physical and mental health treatment is on the following page.

To address Britain’s housing crisis, the party leader has pledged to build 200,000 homes, the same commitment as Miliband and Theresa May made. On immigration, meanwhile, Labour remains mired in its Miliband-era rut: desperate to avoid upsetting the half of its coalition that likes immigration or the half that opposes it, the party settles for offending both with an incoherent mess.

Corbyn’s Labour has a more expansive ­fiscal rule allowing it to spend more on infrastructure than the Labour of Miliband and Ed Balls would have done but, on taxation, the party has moved significantly since the era of Balls – to the right.

The promise of Jeremy Corbyn’s leadership bid was “a new kind of politics”. Corbyn’s claim to be to the left of what came before him rests largely on his career before becoming leader and his rhetoric, rather than the programme that he has advanced since becoming leader.

Here, Corbyn’s allies point to the oppo­sition of much of the Parliamentary Labour Party. Hamon, too, has to navigate a political elite that mostly backed his defeated opponent Manuel Valls, but has carved out a distinctive policy platform offering a universal basic income and pledging to legalise both cannabis and euthanasia.

The Labour leader’s office, meanwhile, can no longer claim to be understaffed. Ed Miliband had a staff of 25. Corbyn has one of 28, with four posts still to be filled. Although Miliband’s journey ended in electoral defeat, his leadership was at least an incubator for ideas about the future of the party, admittedly sometimes to the extent that his office more closely resembled a seminar room than a platform to seize power in a general election. There are serious thinkers in the current leader’s office, but the whole is less than the sum of its parts.

Corbyn has proved to be a more adept player of the game of Labour politics than his opponents as far as retaining the leadership is concerned, and yet he cannot be said to have been a success in terms of transforming the Labour Party. A minister from the Tony Blair years describes Corbyn’s victory as a necessary “course correction” from the excesses of the latter years of New Labour and the arid unity of the Miliband era, but the truth is that Labour’s plane remains on the same trajectory that it was on when Corbyn took the controls.

Beyond the leader’s office, Labour’s left flank has shrunk under Corbyn. Fourteen of the 35 Labour MPs who signed Corbyn’s nomination papers could be described as sharing his politics. Today, the Corbynite caucus numbers just 13, as the late Michael Meacher, an eloquent supporter of Corbynism, has been succeeded in Oldham by Jim McMahon, a rising hope of the party’s right. If Clive Lewis, who is still regarded as the left’s best asset by many activists but is currently on the outside as far as the leadership is concerned, is counted out, the Corbynite caucus goes down to 12.

The struggles of Labour’s French cousins and, indeed, of most centre-left parties everywhere – the centre left has won just seven elections in the EU since the financial crash – show that the party’s problems do not begin or end with Corbyn. But, two years in, it is difficult to see which of those problems are improving under him and easy to identify the ones that are getting worse.

On the periphery of the Corbyn project, there is worthwhile work being done on the digital economy and the party’s structure; the latter has not been the subject of deep thinking since 1997. Yet those green shoots are likely to remain neglected until the leader’s successor, whoever that may be, inherits, just as Corbyn did from Miliband, a party that is weaker at Westminster than it was when he or she found it. And that, regrettably, is the optimistic scenario.

Stephen Bush is special correspondent at the New Statesman. His daily briefing, Morning Call, provides a quick and essential guide to British politics.

This article first appeared in the 30 March 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Wanted: an opposition