I’m the Nelson Mandela of the cycling world. Except for the spending 28 years in jail. And (probably) the being black. And no-one’s written protest songs about me. People have protested about me though, so that’s pretty close.

I do, however, share this in common with Mandela:

• My wife has had people whacked.

• I’m prepared to blow shit up to get my point across.

I have two dreams.

The first is to level the city of Auckland and replace it with an Ewok village. A chick in the UK (who has a digger fetish and fantasises about using one to level a city) will be coming over to help out once I have the necessary planning permits.

My second dream is to outlaw motor vehicles throughout New Zealand, except those used for public transport purposes and other essential services. Like Pizza delivery.

I cycle to work and it’s pretty hair-raising stuff.
Here I am trying to single-handedly save the planet by choosing not to pollute the environment by driving a car and what do I get in return? Near death experiences and carbon monoxide poisoning.
So ban cars, I say.

People will be forced to go back to riding bicycles and horses, and walking, and being pulled around in rickshaws.
People will be healthier. The environment will be healthier.
And, best of all, this dream works in well with my first one, because Ewoks are too small to drive cars anyway.

I have already formed a pushbike gang - The Auckland Vigilante Lycra Cycling Posse – to help achieve this goal. So far, we’ve only blown up the letterboxes of people who have:

• Knocked us off our bikes, or sent us flying over their bonnets because, between trying to drive, talking on their cellphone, drinking a cup of coffee, changing the radio station AND running a red light, they somehow didn’t see us;

• Threatened to kill us, unless we got "off the focking road, and cycled on the focking footpath”, because in their mistaken version of the Rode Code, that’s where we should be;

• Used a bus to try and repeatedly battering-ram us off the road because someone thought it would be a good idea to give a psychopath a public transport job;

• Said that we look gay in Lycra.

But that’s what you get for being a dick and driving something that has a licence plate attached to it, which can be tracked back to You and Your Letterbox.

Sure, letterboxes sound pretty minor, but some of them actually had mail in them at the time, so it would have been like a double-whammy. Especially if it was a birthday card.
But, it needs to be said: I am prepared to blow up car manufacturing plants and oil company executives to take things to the next level.

A carless society would be better for everyone. People wouldn’t be stressed out by being stuck in traffic. There would be no annoying Boy Racers, no drive-by shootings, no speed camera fines and no being ripped-off by grubby mechanics.

Every since someone suggested years ago (wrongly, it turned out) that That Y2K Thing was going to cause all the planet’s computers and coffee machines to Go Postal and try wiping out mankind, I have been stockpiling Weapons of Mass Destruction.
Someday soon, I plan to use them to seize power and enforce D-Man’s Law.
Just watch me.
You have been warned.