I was cycling along a country road today when I was overtaken by a line of vehicles travelling at about 60mph a mere whisker from my elbow. Then, just up the road, I saw them all jam on their brake lights and crawl ever so carefully past a horse and rider with at least a truck-width to spare.

From this observation I can only surmise that the life of a horse is to be held in much higher esteem than that of a cyclist. So to combat this potentially life-snuffing practice I shall endeavour to cycle from now on trying to look like an imposing 20-hand stallion.

I admit this might not be the easiest guise to emulate. Attempting to appear like an old cow would be no trouble – I wouldn’t have to alter too much about my persona to achieve such a feat. But a horse… now that’s a little more tricky.

Unless, that is, I take a little trip down to the wardrobe section of the local theatre. I believe they have in stock a pantomime costume of a doe-eyed and lovable looking horse. Should do the trick nicely. As long as its tail doesn’t get caught in my bike spokes sending me flying in full equine regalia beneath the wheels of a passing vehicle. What a spot of rotten luck that would be. And what an embarrassment – carted off to hospital while dressed as a rather fetching nag.

There again, maybe a vet would be called instead of a medic to deliver a roadside bullet into my winsome mane-tousled skull. On that sobering thought, maybe I will just keep riding my bike as a plain old vehicle-beleaguered cyclist, while secretly wishing I had been born a pretty filly or a stately striding stud.