Fourteen years ago today, we went to the Dave Rayner dinner. (Pause for applause.) Saw a little girl on fire on the drive over there, which was kind of a mood dampener really.

We actually used to go every year, which was fun because you could meet famous British cyclists who’d done incredible feats like finishing 52nd in Paris-Tours. Plus the old boys who’d get their noses bent out of shape because nobody was acknowledging that they won the pursuit worlds in like 1948. A lot has changed, huh.

Can’t remember who the recipients of the fund were that year, but there were some great riders on board. Weird to think that they’re probably all retired now.

Oh yeah, and Jimmy Savile was there as usual. He rode the Tour of Britain once, you know. We spent a lot of time with him. He paraded the male side of DerailedUK around tables of middle-aged women, telling them to watch out because I was virile. Which, in the cold light of 2021, is probably a memory that should be repressed.

Lost all the photos with him, which is probably for the best because they’d make for divisive Facebook profile pictures.

Anyway, here’s some absolute dogshit we wrote with a hangover after the event.

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A Half-Hearted Write Up Of The Dave Rayner Dinner 2007 While We Wait For A Train

Published November 11, 2007

We went to the Dave Rayner Dinner!

There were lots of famous people, and lots of possibly-famous people who always seem to be at those events. Even though we still bear him a huge grudge for ignoring an important email we sent more than a year ago, David Harmon was very good.

The dinner involved a meal, unsurprisingly. There was a menu. It listed the things that everyone ate, apart from the things that the vegetarian people ate.

There was also an auction. It came with a list that looked like this:

The highlight was the original signed yellow jersey from Gino Bartali that was donated by Sir Jimmy Saville. Amazingly, it only went for £2,100. We’d have paid ten times that if we could afford to. No amount of money would be too high for that item. We bet Jimmy Saville’s quite upset now then. Now then.

After that, a little bit more stuff happened, mostly involving not winning at the raffle. We got chips on the way home and listened to some drunk rugby players swearing, which was good because it proved that Harrogate isn’t THAT posh.

Epilogue

We know we’ve got a sofa to sleep on, but which hotel room is it in again?

Aw shit.