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Flashing Helmet

On Sunday evening, as ever in the company of Slightly, I was shamelessly patronising that evil posh cafe on Charing Cross Road that replaced a bookshop about a year ago.

Our eyes and minds were slowly glazing over with Sunday evening boredom when suddenly my companion nudged me and pointed at the street just outside the window: "Flashing Helmet," he said excitedly.

In front of us, a man on his (I think white) bicycle, wearing a white helmet and a crown of red flashing lights rushed past. At the back of the bike was some sort of blue plastic crate full of what looked like small, similar looking, plastic bags stanging upright.

We watched in awe. Was it really one of the Prophets?

More on him: here, here and here.

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