Rent-a-bike thieves are nature unto themselves

Times

4 hours ago

I often get the Merlin app out on my dog walks in our local park — you'd be amazed at the variety of birds in south London, from the occasional woodpecker to an army of rose-ringed parakeets. But there's a relatively new urban hoot-hooting sound in town: the rhythmic call of the stolen Lime bike.The rented bikes make a repetitive cry once an artful dodger — it's usually a child — begins to ride without paying. I saw one being taken for a spin the other morning, two shrieking schoolgirls somehow on one bike, the passenger getting a backie on the wheel arch.
Lime bike pilfering is the petty crime no one seems to care about in London. They're just background singers in our soundscape. I fear more for the safety than the unlawful behaviour of these kids, since none of them seem to wear helmets.
But then I saw a schoolgirl steal someone else's rented bike. The poor bloke, on his way to work, had paused his ride, dismounted and turned his back for a second to retrieve a ring he'd dropped. He tried, awkwardly and heroically, but failed to catch the bike poacher as she sped off, the getaway vehicle weaving in and out of rush-hour traffic.
• England ride Lime bikes to Oval with West Indies stuck in traffic
In Australia, helmets are a legal requirement and Lime bikes have them attached in the front baskets, which makes a change from the discarded takeaways left in the UK ones. Could the caring, sharing, eco-conscious, globally successful e-bike hire company not attach helmets to the British bikes?
I seem to be having a middle-aged pop girl summer. So far I've seen Charli XCX, Sabrina Carpenter, Chappell Roan and Beyoncé. I'll see rapper Doechii in August.
I've been going to gigs fairly consistently since the age of about 14 but I don't remember anyone dressing up as the person they are about to see on stage. This is not a grumpy old woman complaint. It was glorious to see the young 'uns in yuck-green tops and big frilly knickers for Charli and ironic pinks for Chappell. The joyful commitment to cowboy boots and stetsons for Beyoncé's performance in sweltering London was impressive, to the point of being quite moving.
I honestly love my job but there's a special satisfaction in putting on my automatic out-of-office response when I go on holiday. I get a lot of cold-call, copy-and-paste emails from PR companies and can't find time to reply to all of them. Since the answer to the vast majority is 'no thank you', it would be unproductive in any case. It does feel hugely impolite to ignore them so I have experimented with efficiently curt, negative responses, only to be met with the dreaded follow-up 'While I have you…'.
So the OOO setting satisfies politeness: everyone's at least getting a response — around 530 people during a recent eight-day break. Their non-bespoke request is getting a non-custom-made reply. It's an egalitarian relationship between inboxes where no human time has been wasted. There are still some codes of conduct. You can't switch your holiday setting on mid-conversation. Though I have a sneaking respect for those capable of this OOO smackdown. I got one the other day that just said: 'Hello there, Sorry I missed your message. I'm wild swimming in Wales.' A new height for rubbing your nose in it.
Searching the internet for a good price on a new shower, the algorithm threw showers for dogs at me, for the algorithm knows that I am a dog owner with solid hygiene standards. But it turns out that these are not niche products. Even John Lewis sells one, 'for a more relaxed experience' for your dog. It's an 'anatomically shaped' (me neither) showerhead with settings for paws and body made by Hansgrohe. Yours for only £157. How on earth have we lived so long without it?
Lesley Thomas is Weekend editor
Janice Turner is away