If the police pursue it she'll get a small fine. He, on the other hand, stood there stammering and got himself pushed around by somebody a foot shorter than him. I'd have thought his friends and family are looking at their toes in embarrassment.
And the reason is....he had no plan. No thought about how he was going to play it. He stood his ground, but had no clue what to do when the young woman took him to task. That's marginally more pathetic than his showing on Strictly.
The really sad thing about this is it plays to the audience within cycling that sees itself as the victim. Cyclists aren't victims. They're the new nobility of the streets. They swan around, heedless of jams, taking in the scenery, getting to their destinations more quickly than anybody else, revelling in their own fitness, living longer, healthier lives than the car-bound masses around them. Cyclists have become the chosen, the keepers of virtue, the flaneurs of the modern age. Were Baudelaire alive today he'd be awestruck by the ease with which our tyres, wheels, frames and saddles carry us vast distances without apparent effort. We're the Tops, the Colosseum and the Wax Museum of town and country.
Lets have that as our chosen narrative, not this bleating about people passing too close, or parping their horns. If Mr. Vine is so convinced that cycling is dangerous, why does he continue?