Captain Morgan has moved on from nobby lectures to nobby poetry. Here is his description of John's ride in the style of Robert Browning. I hope this doesn't set a dangerous precedent ! I sprang to the saddle and Cully and John, We cycled, they cycled, all twelve cycled on “Good speed” cried the Middles, as they passed us by On the bridge at West Drayton with blue in the sky “Speed” echoed the lorries as at us they rushed Round Heathrow inhaling exhaust fumes and dust. Not a word to each other, we kept up the race ( Well other than Angela, talking apace ) I turned in the saddle, pulled the pannier tight Then shortened my jockstrap, pulled the lycra right Rebuckled my helmet, chained slacker the bit Then took it all off again, it still didn’t fit ! T’was past ten at starting but as we drew near Staines and the river, it soon became clear We were headed upstream, completely away From the Oaks at Twickers and lunch at midday ! So John turned on the bridge, headed east by strange routes Past Thorpe, Monksway, Sunbury, settling our doubts. Past the Thames water works with the clock striking two, We started to think what on earth would we do If the Oaks by this time had run out of beer But the sight so gladsome, allaying our fear As we opened the door , was of 18 hand pumps, Of cider and beer ! John’s name rose from the dumps ....