Naked in London: barefaced cheek!

“Blessed are the peacemakers” the Bible tells us, but it forgets to add the obvious corollary “and awesome are those who strip naked and cycle the streets of central London in the name of peace and the environment”. Thousands of revellers – displaying not a shred of inhibition and not the slightest consideration for the very real possibility of genital chafing – shed their fabric shackles for the Naked London Bike Ride and embraced the freedom of the summer air, the fervour of the two-wheeled carnival, and the inevitability of bemused passers-by taking photos of their funbits.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vxZa2ANHXYc

Such frivolity! Such bare-cheeked, multicoloured pastiche! Whistles, glowsticks, bodypaint – all were in abundance as the happy crowd rolled down Fleet Street.  Their noble cause?  To protest against oil dependency.  A flyer explained what this gallant act of exhibitionism was all about: “The World Naked Bike Ride”, it elucidated, “draws attention to the absurdity of oil dependency and celebrates the potential of cycling and the human body”. Obviously. “Riding naked emphasises the vulnerability of cyclists on the road, at the same time as celebrating humanity in the face of mechanisation”.

Vulnerability, however, was not something that these postmodern Luddites displayed as they rolled gloriously through the streets of the capital. Bicycles, tricycles, even unicycles were ridden by these devastatingly exposed libertines – some completely naked, some in their pants, some painted head-to-toe in bodypaint and anti-mechanic slogans, but all grinning from ear to ear. Hail these celebrators of the human form, these most honest and pure of protesters! Just make sure you cover your children’s eyes.

Sour-faced policemen and women coasted along beside their churlish charges, not bothering (or daring) to arrest anyone but looking decidedly embarrassed about the whole affair.  Cheer up plod; I expect half of them were envious of the protesters’ nudist whimsy.  Perennial nudity is something to which we should all aspire. Undoubtedly the world would be a better place – would the Cuban missile crisis really have been so dire if Kennedy and Khrushchev had just decided to chill out naked by the pool?  I think not.  So, naked bike riders of London, I want to thank you for two reasons; firstly, for braving sunburn and awkwardly-positioned blisters to encourage us to cease our unwavering commitment to corporal modesty; and secondly, for granting me the opportunity to see more nipples in a ten minute period than I am ever likely to see again.