“I’ve just about had it with this cycling from Reading to Brindisi lark. Who the hell does he think he is? He has spent the past five weeks sitting on me, at times cursing me and now, would you believe it, I have had my wheels removed and have spent the evening dumped behind this house somewhere in the south of Italy. I heard him muttering about having to wrap me up for the flight back to England but I didn’t expect to become disabled in the process. Just look at me; not an ounce of dignity left in my tubular steel frame. If I could, I would weep. The best I can do is drip a bit of oil from my chain. Who did all the work in this so called ‘adventure’? Me or him?”