Aaron Fassbender, The Dark Recliner, lit up another low emission cigarette.

In the intervening months his fame had grown - or should that be his notoriety? City road users had split into two groups. Those that approved of his direct actions against errant road use and those that would like to run him over. He had agreed to discuss his city cycling pet hates, provided I met him at a time and place of his choice.

The location was a tumble down graveyard close to the city centre. Most of the internees here would never have seen a bike, let alone a car. And if they had seen a bike it was nothing like Aaron’s low racer.

“Look around you. What do you see?” Aaron’s blunt question was typical of his enigmatic style.

I answered that it was very dark and that I could see the shapes of old grave stones and the entrance to a family crypt. And of course his bike.

“So you can see my bike, yes? Must just be dumb assed vehicle users that choose not to see me. I think they need to be taught a lesson.”

From his back box he pulled out a handful of flags. Good idea I thought... make yourself more visible. “No. These are to attach to all cars below one metre twenty. Vehicles at this height are dangerous to cyclists and pedestrians. They must have safety flags so that they can be seen more clearly. Failure to comply will result in direct action being taken. A Ferrari is more dangerous than my bike and should be marked as such.”