Rococo capitalism - the manufacture and consumption of the completely unnecessary - surely reaches a morbidly-accessorised apotheosis in the figure of the Australian Weekend Cyclist, tumescent with the overt symptoms of Obsessive Lycra Disorder: longish shorts/shortish longs featuring replete colostomy bag at the rear, zippered shirts spattered in faux Tour/Giro advertising, cleated footwear, ineffective helmets, innumerable plastic bottles and tubes, rudeness to cafe staff and non-cycling patrons, road sanctimony, and complete lack of awareness that the global cycling world finds the entire antipodean pose preposterous.
And as if that wasn't bad enough, where does all the lycra - and accumulated secretions - end up? In the mid-Pacific gyre, of course. Branding the littoral of The Great Plastic Island. It's enough to make a fish sick.
Next: "Lance Armstrong" Signature EPO. Gives the weekend cyclist "that extra edge".
Off with their heads.
That's all for now.