You Thought What Was Bad?

You know what is worse than men in lycra? Men in lycra that is too big for them. Especially in white. And shiny. They look like an egg that has been painted by Dali. The physical embodiment of the melting clock standing before you.

“Come on Tony, luv, time to go.”

“Oh, yes, Jim, just a moment while I get up.”

“Give me your hand, old man,” says Jim. “Alley oop!”

“Oh, yes, that makes it much easier,” says Tony.

“I’m getting my bike.”

“I’m paying the bill.”

“Straighten you suit,” says Jim. “It’s hanging down…”

“What?”

“At the back.”

“What?”

“The back, old man, the back,” says Jim. “Pull it round, or tuck it in.”

“These suits aren’t what they used to be.” Tony gives his buzz saw law laugh.

“Not only the suits…”

“What’s that?”

“I said not only the suits.”

“Not only the suits?”

“It’s not just the suits,” says Jim. 

“Oh.”

Jim puts his knuckles to each side of his head. “Clean them out, Tone.” He twists each hand. “Clean them out.”

“Are you saying we aren’t what we used to be?” says Tony.

“Well, your arse is beginning to resemble Marg’s from back here.” Jim laughs.

“Not just the suit,” says Tony. “We should ride under that name.”

“Not, Marg’s Arse?” says Jim.

“Not Marg’s arse,” says Tony. “You look like your balls are hitting your thighs.”

“That’s not just the suit…”

“What?”

“That’s not the suit.”

“What’s not the suit?” says Tony.

“My balls are hitting my thighs these days,” says Jim.

“Oh, tell me about it,” says Tony.

Both men laugh.

They clack out to the footpath in their riding shoes to where their bikes are secured to a bike rack.

“Now, what’s my combination,” Tony says out loud to no one in particular.

“Hang on,” says Jim. “I’ll need to have a piss before we go.”

“Oh yes, good idea,” says Tony. “I can’t do two teas like I once could.”

They both clack back across the footpath together and back inside the café.