Let’s play Plebgate. You’re the police and I’m the government chief whip. “I thought you lot were fucking meant to help us,” I say when you refuse to open the main gates from Downing Street to Whitehall – gates you routinely open on other days – forcing me to trundle my bike a further 15 feet. I think of Bradley Wiggins and all he has done to sacralise the cyclist. Isn’t this an insult to him, too? “Fucking plebs!” I say.