Cyclesexuals — a Silent Menace

A 51-year-old man caught by clean­ers ‘sim­u­lat­ing sex’ with a bicycle in his locked room in a hostel in Ayr, Scotland has been sen­tenced to three years pro­ba­tion and has been added to the Sex Offenders Register. grey Cyclesexuals   a Silent Menace

In almost four dec­ades in the law I thought I had come across every per­ver­sion known to man­kind,” opined the presid­ing judge (talk­ing I pre­sume about the cases he had heard rather than other judges).

But this is a new one on me. I have never heard of a ‘cycle-sexualist’.” Reportedly the clean­ers used a mas­ter key to unlock the door and they then observed the offender “wear­ing only a white t-shirt, naked from the waist down… hold­ing the bike and mov­ing his hips back and forth as if to sim­u­late sex.”

Both clean­ers, who were “extremely shocked”, told the hostel man­ager who called police. Some bleeding-heart louche met­ro­pol­itan types have whinged that this case is a ridicu­lous over-reaction and waste of judi­cial resources — or even a wor­ry­ing inva­sion of pri­vacy and attack on per­sonal liberty!

What a load of inner tubes. Thank good­ness someone has had the cour­age to take a stand against this evil vice threat­en­ing the very lycra of our soci­ety. Not to men­tion under­min­ing attempts to com­bat Global Warming, obesity and urban congestion.

Personally, I think the fiend should have been given a lengthy cus­todial sen­tence and banned for life from being within 100 yards of a bike-stand. Contrary to the ridicu­lous argu­ments of lib­er­als, the wicked exploit­a­tion by sick per­verts like this of inno­cent, help­less bicycles to grat­ify their twis­ted lust is NOT a vic­tim­less crime. How can a bicycle give con­sent? By pinging its own bell? Changing gear? Increasing tyre pres­sure? Obviously not. Any sex act with a bicycle is by defin­i­tion uncon­sen­sual. Not to men­tion rather uncomfortable.

And what about the cor­rupt­ing effect of this ped­al­istic deprav­ity on those unfor­tu­nate enough to view it, even if they have to barge into someone’s locked bed­room to do so? Or the wider effect on soci­ety? The vile degrad­a­tion and con­tam­in­a­tion of the entirely clean and pure pleas­ure of rid­ing a bike to work, firm leather saddle chaf­ing between thighs, press­ing insist­ently, teas­ingly, against one’s freshly-talced but now nicely moisten­ing Perineum?

If these cycle­sexual mon­sters aren’t stopped, we’ll have to pixelate the TV cov­er­age of the Tour de France and even epis­odes of Miss Marple.

Come to think of it, for the sake of even-handedness, the author­it­ies should also arrest self-confessed pet­ro­sexual Top Gear presenter Jeremy Clarkson. After all, he doesn’t even have the decency to con­duct his per­ver­sion in private: those close-ups of Jezza all glassy-eyed and foam-flecked in the latest Ferrari, play­ing with its chunky gear-lever moan­ing and sigh­ing how much he really, really LOVES, no, LURRRRRRVES, this SEXY, FRISKY, FOXY, BEAUTY… go out in prime-time.

OK, I’ll admit there are some very minor details of this case that could per­haps be slightly cla­ri­fied. What, for instance, does the court mean by ‘sim­u­lat­ing sex’? Does it mean that the man was pre­tend­ing to have sex with the bicycle, or that he wasn’t enjoy­ing sex with the bicycle? If the former then per­haps he and the bike were just hav­ing a laugh after the pub like lads do, if the lat­ter then he isn’t much of a per­vert but rather kind-hearted.

Or does ‘sim­u­lat­ing’ mean that, yes, he was hav­ing some kind con­jug­a­tion with the bicycle, but the court calls it ‘sim­u­lated’ because, of course, you can’t actu­ally have proper, nat­ural, godly, man-woman baby-making sex with a bicycle — unless it’s had some major modi­fic­a­tions. Like a vagina fit­ted under the saddle.

And why on earth did the hostel allow its res­id­ents to take bikes up to their bed­rooms after dark? I also won­der some­what about the hostel clean­ers. They claim they ‘knocked sev­eral times’ before using their master-key to open the door, but I find that dif­fi­cult to believe.

I mean, how many of the clean­ers in five star hotels give you enough time between knock­ing and open­ing the door to allow you a chance to dis­en­tangle your­self from the Corby Trouser Press?


NB to pro­tect the inno­cent, the bicycle pic­tured is not the unfor­tu­nate victim.

Tip: David H