How to be as smart as Jason Bourne

“It can’t be helped darling, just crack on without me” drone the suits into their Blackberries. The departure boards are blank. There’s been a fatality at Surbiton. There’s even talk of replacement busses. The concourse is now straining with commuters waiting to get home to the ‘burbs.

This isn’t the place to be with a bike. Even the Brompton owners are shaking their heads: normally they’re so smug when presented with a packed carriage, but not this evening. Now, to kill some time until things calm down.

So I’m standing outside Scooter Works, the same café in a Waterloo back street that Jason Bourne scarpers to when he evades an assassination in the Bourne Supremacy. I’ve put my Tesco plastic bag-disguise over my Brooks saddle and I’m about to lock up when I notice something written on the pavement.

Local intel on a Waterloo pavement

“LIGHT THIEF ICI” scratched in capitals. “Thanks mate,” I think as I begin to unscrew my rear light. But why “ici” and not “here”? Jason Bourne would have known. Was it written by the thief, proud of his/her haul? No matter, I just welcome the effort as one who once had my bike relieved of its saddle, seat post and brake blocks by a resourceful sod with an Allen key.

As they say in the intelligence community, “it’s not just what you know, but who you tell it to”. But I couldn’t possibly tell you who told me that.


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