as you lean into the light

late november. only one place to be. me and dangerous make our way down to the national exhibition centre for the second time this month, the 'motorcycle live' show in birmingham, we arrive around lunchtime, the queue's are gone and we get straight in, cup of java in hand, bloody hell it's rammed, a spontaneous round of applause breaks out, 'fuck me dangerous, we're famous!' 'you really are a twat bailey' replies the dark one, 'that's prince william checking out the new super-leggara on the ducati stand' i make out i knew that all along and realise that motorcyclists really are a bunch of ugly fuckers, no wonder we wear full face helmets, it looks like an audition for 'britains got munter's' all the tribes are here today, from the flat-peaked baseball cap, low-slung, pant exposing bsb youngsters, the dyed-in-the-wool classic fan's, the steely-eyed trackday warriors, the mcc boy's with denim and leather cut-off's proudly displaying their 'sheep-dip 1990' rally badges and allegiance to their local backpatch mc club, the dreaded up, vans wearing graphic designers, expensive camera's taking in details to be regurgitated as their own, bored girlfriends and bored wife's and bored kid's, the 'shoreditch connection' fresh from their 'distinguished gentleman's' terror inducing ride-out through londinium, all ruby helmeted, 'selvedge' big 'e' vintage denim, redwing's, belstaff's and wallet's on chains, flat tweed capped and 'movembered' fascinating really, anyhoo, the bikes, the cx 500 'plastic maggot' honda, brilliant, the ben kingham built 'brick' a road going version of his bhr 'b.e.a.r.s' racer, the ducati diavel police bike, [can't help thinking if this hoved into view in your rear view you would try and race it until he came past you and turned on the blues and two's, still, be wicked with a couple of akra race pipes and a small number plate to really take the piss and earn some resec' amongst the biking community]  the norton domi-racer look's cool-as-fuck, saw it in it's raw state in the isle of man back in august, carbon wrapped seat jarred a little then, now? lovely, i want one and by the way, there really isn't anything in those pipes, open, no baffles, zilch, nothing the lamb norton in gulf colour's? worked for me, the race bikes? grumpy's gs1000 ama era superbike, the milwaukee yam, the tiny 675 triumph, gwinter's apprillia, scott reddings union jack silverstone kalex, michael's big classic tt suzuki, the warr's xr harley, [and the 'silent grey fellow' flatty] the mcqueen mettise desert racer and the racefit bmw all perfect. i like the bike show at the n.e.c. where else can you sit on every new motorcyle going and compile a list of bike's you would buy when that elusive lottery win finally comes good and let's face it, where else are you ever going to get the chance to rub shoulder's with dangerous, prince william and me...........