...was St. Patricks Friday 13th Massacre.
I was manning one of the funniest alleycat checkpoints I've ever witnessed.
In a small alleyway behind Ludgate Hill unaware racers run into a 'border crossing'.
At one of the checkpoints prior to the 'border' a potato was given to each rider with
instructions to hide it well, but no further explanations were given.
In a dark and narrow passage arriving riders were told in uncertain words to get off the bikes and start queueing. As one would expect from a proper border crossing, the queue was not moving fast. Eventually each person was questioned by a good cop/bad cop team of 'custom officials'.
Pockets were frisked and courier bags were turned inside out in the search for spuds. Think of a proper search: latex gloves etc.
And at least one particularly mouthy delinquent was tackled to the ground by the 'security'.
Next time you race do yourself a favour and be nice to marshals.
