I have gone to war with the cyclists in my neighbourhood. Not all of them, you understand; just the ones who break the law on things like steaming through pedestrian crossings when the lights are against them, or riding along the pavement.
Which is almost all of them, to be fair.
How did this happen? One day, I was feeling wordlessly exasperated again by the shameless lawlessness of them, the increasing vastness of their bikes combined with their flagrant, spite-addled disregard for pedestrians, the way they seem to have decided quite arbitrarily that road laws simply do not apply to them… The next, I’m screaming like a mad woman at this one who’d steamed up onto the pavement directly in front of me, as I made my way to the pub one evening. He’d mounted the pavement, beetled along for a bit, then parked. I’d given him the filthiest look eyes will allow.
This image and below, a couple of the red light runners spotted by Polly Vernon
COURTESY OF POLLY VERNON
He said, “What?”
I said, “Oh, I dunno… Just… Don’t ride on the pavement? Maybe?”
Him: “I wasn’t going to hit you!”
Me: “WELL, AREN’T I THE LUCKY ONE!”
Him: “IT WAS ONLY FIVE SECONDS!”
Two pavement riders
COURTESY OF POLLY VERNON
Me: “THEN WHY DIDN’T YOU GET OFF AND PUSH IT FOR ‘ONLY FIVE SECONDS’?”
He tutted, realised there was no way I was backing down, turned and said, sotto voce, “Haven’t you got anything better to do?”
• London cyclists who run red lights face tougher penalties
Which is when I realised: I didn’t!
And I went to war.
It’s dangerously, irritatingly lawless
I live slightly down from the top end of the Holloway Road in north London. It is not at all fancy or fashionable; we have two bookies for every Greggs, and three pound shops for every 0.15 of an artisanal coffee shop. The entire area is currently in a state of emotional turmoil because a Gail’s is apparently opening next to the Tube — technically a huge marker of gentrification, yet we have no clue how the addicts who congregate in the square next to the site are going to take it.
Cyclists commuting in central London
ALAMY
The Holloway Road is nearly two miles long. It attracts a great deal of traffic. Since Covid, since the wholesale adopting of pay-to-hire (or don’t pay-at-all) e-bikes in 2021 (when Lime expanded in the UK), and since food delivery services such as Uber Eats and Deliveroo embedded themselves into our lifestyle, increasing numbers of cyclists have swollen the ranks of Holloway Road users. According to the most recently available data, published by TfL (Transport for London) in November 2025, cycling has increased by 43 per cent in the capital since 2019; a fact pretty evident, on this one road. Of course, this should be cause for celebration. Hoorah for people leaving their cars at home and doing something for both their health (mental and physical) and the environment!
I would celebrate — if they weren’t so entirely, dangerously, irritatingly lawless.
Oh yeah yeah, not all cyclists, I know — like Not All Men. To be fair, I’m only talking about:
The illegally acquired Lime bike brigade, who cut corners and shoot up the wrong side of the road before casually swerving in front of a bus but at least they’re on the right side of the road now, eh; the alarm blaring all the while so that everyone knows they didn’t pay for it — a badge of honour, apparently.
The cargo bike brigade, off on the school run with their kids stashed in the carrier up front, who obey not a single road law because they’re parents and they’re performing “Look at me caring about the environment” hard, so why should they?
The delivery boys, with bikes so souped up — epic tyres with epic treads, massive waterproof mittens attached permanently to the handlebars, electric engines the size of small turbines — they amount to nothing short of motorbikes, but their schedule is insane and why shouldn’t they tool along the pavement? If they’re on the road, cars just slow them down.
The Mamils — middle-aged men in Lycra — doing whatever it takes, screw whoever gets in their way, screw anyone else’s right of way, to batter their PB.
• More than half of London cyclists admit they often run red lights
The commuters, keen to get on because it’s raining (only cyclists hate the rain, didn’t you know?), and anyway, they’re not really ignoring that red light crossing! They’re slowing down a bit, then sort of casually drifting over, like OOPSIE! I didn’t even know I was doing that. My bad! And they’re not really mounting the pavement for great swathes of time either — except they are. It’s just that it’s ever so dangerous for them on the road, drivers are so contemptuous, what else can they do?
The cheeky chappies who shout, “Sorry love!” with a wink as they shoot a red light, while I hover precariously, half on the pavement, half off, foot poised in mid-air, crossing signal bleeping encouragement along with the green man — but then the vibe shifts dramatically ’cos I scream, “JUST STOP, WHY DON’T YOU!” after them, then they howl, “F*** OFF!” back into their slipstream, apparently under the illusion a) this will offend me to my core, andb) I won’t shout it right back at them, which, of course, I do. (Oh, I am hoarse from shouting at cyclists, some days.)
The ones so amped up on pre-emptive rage because they know they’re busting every law known to road users, they’re already tensed and furious against the possibility someone (me) will call them on it. (“You’re only angry because you know I’m right!” is another one of my favourite things to shout. Oh and also, because my small but gobby dog objects to cyclists on pavements more even than me, barking admonishment at them, I like to say, “Oh, I’m so sorry! I’m fine with you riding on the pavement, but she thinks you’re a selfish, feckless, dangerous, ignorant arse!”)
The one who rang his bell at me, as I crossed on my green light — because he wanted to hurry me on and over, so he wouldn’t have to swerve even a tiny little bit to avoid me.
The one who told me off because I had my headphones on, so hadn’t heard him riding up the pavement behind me.
The one who, while riding up the pavement towards me, realised I was clearly not going to hurl myself into a privet to let him pass unfettered — so he sped up, aiming his handlebars squarely at my chest, coming faster and faster at me, and when I still didn’t get out of his way, swerved last minute, calling me a “c***”.
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TOM JACKSON FOR THE TIMES MAGAZINE
The one who, only this morning, shot past so suddenly and so fast on the pavement, his backdraft ruffled the fur on my small but gobby dog’s tail as she trotted beside me, small and not seen and sickeningly vulnerable to a bike that heavy, that big, that fast and that uncontrolled. (Lime bikes weigh 35kg.)
The one who rode his bike onto the pavement, across my path, and into my local Sainsbury’s. When I asked what on earth he thought he was doing, he said, “I’m not talking to you,” then faked a phone call in which he had an imaginary argument with a woman who’d suggested he didn’t ride his bike into a supermarket.
I am not making this up. I couldn’t make this up.
And on, and on.
Pavements are used like cycle paths
Rough estimate: between 75-85 per cent of cyclists who use the section of Holloway Road nearest my home completely ignore pedestrian crossings when they are signalling against them.
This means that those of us using crossings as pedestrians are now obliged to look right and left, right and left, all the way, as we cross. It means that, if a bigger vehicle, a bus or van, is stopped at the other side of the road, we have to crane round its edge to make sure a bike is not hurtling down beside it. As for pavement antics: I estimate about 15-20 per cent of cyclists round my way use the — wide, capacious — pavements as if they were cycle paths (when they do, actually, have good access to cycle paths). This means I have to check before I “change lanes” on a pavement: move to one side of it or the other. It means I have to look both ways before exiting a shop.
And I’m not exaggerating. Nor am I particularly neurotic. But you know that, don’t you? Because you’re doing the same.
Cyclist behaviour has all become much, much worse in the past six months. I don’t know why. It feels as if a significant proportion of cyclists have suddenly decided road laws do not apply to them.
• Protect pedestrians from these deadly cyclists
(A friend recently told me that, when she first moved to London from the Middle East, around a decade ago, she was charmed by cyclists. “They all wore high-vis sashes and helmets. They indicated with an arm before they made a turning.” But now? “I saw one woman riding a Lime bike with one hand this morning, because she needed the other to scroll on TikTok.” “I just saw one riding one-handed, because she had her coat draped over the other, so she didn’t get it creased,” said another friend. Yeah. Times have changed.)
So, as I say, I’ve had enough. I have gone to… Oh, if not war, exactly, then in for some everyday anti-lawless cyclist vigilantism.
Another pavement user spotted by Polly
COURTESY OF POLLY VERNON
What am I doing, exactly? Photographing or videoing any example of bad biking I see, then posting it on my Instagram feed, with a caption. The captions are (forgive me) generally profane, eg “Pavement all-the-way wanker”, over a pic of a chap happily freewheeling down a space that is definitely, by law, 100 per cent reserved for pedestrians. “Red light wanker”, on one pic — after another, after another. “He’s probably got special dispensation,” I wrote over another red light denier. “Perhaps she doesn’t see colour?” I wrote on yet another. I managed to nail about seven on my first trip out, which was barely 20 minutes long — I was going to Pilates, I haven’t made any special outings for it. Yet — and I missed far more than I got.
Why is no one stopping them?
It is satisfying in the way only petty, furious acts of quasi-vengeance can be. And I am furious. I’m furious because it’s blatantly a dangerous thing to do. Roads only function because there’s a common understanding re what you can and can’t do on them. You can be damn sure cyclists are relying on every other road user adhering to the law, even as they break it. Plus, as a cyclist friend (as incensed as I am by all this) says, “We often don’t realise how fast we’re going. I bet a lot of them don’t stop at lights, because they can’t. And we often forget we don’t make any noise, too — so no one hears us coming.”
And I’m furious because they’re only doing it because they can get away with it, because they aren’t registered.
And I’m furious on principle. A sizeable segment of society has recently decided they don’t have to abide by a law — and no one’s stopping them. That’s insane, isn’t it?
Commuters in west London
GETTY IMAGES
And I’m furious because it’s only getting worse. There’s a £20 million Lime Bike Action Plan in the works, to expand to all 33 London boroughs, instead of the current 17. And it’s not just a London problem — 2,000 Lime bikes and e-scooters are on their way to Birmingham in April. Others are destined for the University of Warwick.
I’ve had an excellent response to my sweary Insta campaign. People are sharing their favourite tools of vengeance against lawless cyclists, their own preferred insults. There are a lot of us — and we are all incensed. I’ve only had a couple of objections — and they really didn’t make me think again. In fact, they confirmed my worst prejudices.
“You should be petitioning for better town planning, not victimising cyclists!” one said. (Yeah, that sounds superfun, I thought.) “We are so horribly at risk from drivers, we NEED to jump lights and mount pavements.”
And oh, there it is! Worst case scenario cyclist mentality, according to which you are both a put-upon, terribly vulnerable victim-in-waiting of the roads, but also morally superior — righteous and good — re the environment, which you are single-handedly saving.
I know car drivers can be awful to cyclists
Funny thing, though — I don’t have a car. Nor does my partner. We’re a zero car family. I walk or get public transport the vast majority of the time, very occasional Ubers, very occasional lifts with a mate. I do this because it works for me. It suits my lifestyle. Because walking ups my daily calorie burn. Because it’s cheaper. Am I happy that, in the mix of all that, my impact on the environment is less harmful than it would be, if I had a car? But do I make it my identity? My get-out-of-jail-free on straight-up illegality? I DO NOT.
So why do cyclists?
And I know drivers of cars can be awful to cyclists. Vile and dangerous. But that in no sense makes a case for cyclists to pay that abuse, that disregard for another person’s safety, forward to pedestrians.
I explained all this to one Instagram objector (who, by the way, told me while, yes, she mounted pavements and ignored red lights, she did it “mindfully and gently”… Again, I could not make this up). She replied that not that many pedestrians are killed by cyclists (oh, well, if it’s not that many…) while loads are killed by cars. And we are. Far more pedestrians than cyclists are injured or killed by cars. In 2024, again according to TfL, out of 130 road fatalities in London, 66 pedestrians died, also 10 cyclists and 18 motorcyclists. But she looks at this stat and thinks we should be angrier with the drivers of cars than we are cyclists. I look at that stat and think, it’s yet another argument against cyclists colonising areas designated pedestrian-only by law.
Will my daft, satisfying, foul-mouthed Instagram campaign make a jot of difference to cyclists’ behaviour? Probably not. What might? Serious intervention on the e-bikes, registration of privately owned bikes — and maybe a broader shaming of the red light ignorers? Maybe the kind that starts with a silly, funny, furious social media project like mine. It was a sneaky, silent cultural shift that semi-legitimised it in the first place. Maybe it can be reversed with another one.
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