Is the cycle version of the world’s most extreme drinking marathon a pedal too far for Robin Hood and Maid Marion?
I am Robin Hood. Even without the (toy) bow and arrow I had to abandon because airport security apparently don’t like those kind of things in hand luggage, I look bloody marvellous. My green tunic fits snugly over a long-sleeved white shirt, thick black cuffs line my wrists, an arrow-holder crosses my shoulder to carry my non-existent weapons and my noble steed is rushing me through the forest, navigating the terrain with the grace of a …
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