“Look at my shiny teeth”, announced The Big Ring to no one in particular, “all 53 of them…I’m so strong”.
The Little Ring let out a barely audible creak. He was bolted to The Big Ring, on the inside, always in the shadow of his bigger colleague…a captive audience…and had heard it all before.
“There’s my reflection in The Shard”, screamed The Big Ring, “I’m so fast you can barely see me!”
The Wattmeister pedalled on, the rumbling of his stomach drowning out the swank of the crank. His thoughts focussed on a Full English Breakfast.
“Yeah little brother, we’re in Regents Park. I’ll show them! I’m so very strong. I can catch anybody!”, ranted The Big Ring. “Give me The Power Wattmeister!”
Round and round went The Big Ring and The Little Ring, linked together in a spinning dervish.
“I’m the Greatest, the Strongest, the Fastest, why are you even here?” asked The Big Ring of his little brother, “you’ve only got 39 teeth, and they ain’t even shiny, they National Health style amalgam teeth. Lucky no one can see them!”
The Little Ring sighed. It was the same story every week. The Big Ring lacked emotional intelligence. Like Donald Trump, he blustered, boasted, threatened and ridiculed his partner. Big Ring would have sacked Little Ring if he could just undo those chainring bolts.
But he always forgot one thing.
As the road climbs sharply up Swain’s Lane, The Wattmeister engages with Little Ring….
“You’ve gone very quiet big brother. Where’s all your shiny teeth now? They’re all covered in lube and shit. Eat this slope Big Ring….why don’t you?”
What goes around, comes around.