Killing cyclists

Item: Jeremy Clarkson in the Sun - to cyclists: “Do not pull up at junctions, because if I am behind you, I will set off at normal speed and you will be crushed under my wheels.”
and
“Do not, ever, swear at or curse people in cars or trucks. You are a guest on roads that are paid for by motorists, so if we cut you up, shut up.”

Jeremy Clarkson - always thought of him as a large and amusing doggy of a man; overweight, no discernible talent, a good line in the kind of pub patter aspired to by a middle aged sextet of lager-necking Yorkshire lard-arses performing at full volume behind us for six hours at the last one-day against Australia, lads going on forty-five and a half but determined to rediscover the inner playground shitbag; yuckily amusing as a spectacle in the same way as might be the dog performing an act forbidden by manners and hygiene to humans in public.
But - always the danger when windbags, or dogs for that matter, are given too much attention - Clarkson gets overexcited, seems to be aspiring to a kind of Brownshirtism, to legitimising public violence committed by the dominant group; in this case only fat farts in cars; but from here, who knows? It’s a scary scenario, but for every Clarkson there is probably a sub-culture of a thousand or a million sub-Clarksons. What kind of uniform, what kind of ideology? I saw a sub-C (Subsy) in Market Harborough with a bumper sticker “So many pedestrians, so little time”. Who's next on the list? The front pages of the Express and Mail are already screaming the answers.
Incidentally Jeremy - bit of a difficult concept here, so don’t try to take it in all at once - just because somebody has a bicycle it doesn’t mean they don’t have a car. Look at it this way. Somebody buys a bicycle. The same person buys a car. Then they have both. Good. Wasn’t so difficult was it?
So even if it were true that fat farts in cars own the road in a literal sense, which I don’t think it is, Jeremy, is it, not really; it’s what we call a fantasy; even then, it is possible to have a serving member of fat fartdom on a bicycle. And we won’t laugh. Really.
But every cloud has a silver lining. The way you put it, the moment that you get out of your car and try to cross the street, at that very moment you, Jeremy Clarkson, sadly a mere pedestrian now, cease to own the road, nor any right to life. But that's not true either. You're with us for the duration I'm afraid.