The album is called Lime Slime. Sixty photos on my phone of e-bikes dumped in the middle of the pavement, blocking street crossings and obstructing entrances, in a tangle of wheels and fluoro frames.
My walk to the tube in south London takes five minutes. It’s clubland, so you would expect to dodge frazzled partiers and pavement pizzas. But, most mornings, I stop three or four times because some absolute sprocket has left their rental bike sideways across the path. I take a picture of this small, fleeting discourtesy because I can’t believe someone has done something so obviously daft – passersby look at me oddly; it’s not premium Instagram content, I know – then I drag it out of the way and stand it next to a wall.
