Last newsletter - more time for sifting

For all the fans and stalkers here's one last CS Newsletter. I know this makes me sound like King Sifty of the Sift people, but it's quite hard work writing newsletters, and I think this one will just have to call itself the last one... all good things must come to an end...

So, like a pile of fetid seaweed adrift in the Bermuda triangle, the last ever newsletter has been cast into the oblivious void of cyberspace, destined to float aimlessly about mutating and devolving.

As always the CS website has been pretty out of date lately, but it still seems to do the job anyway, and I don't update it very often  because I'm a sifter. But once in a while I am overcome by these uncontrollable urges, and the site gets some new action. In fact only minutes ago I was lying comfortably in the sun thinking of having a relaxing sleep. But then with new resolve I decided to come inside to lurk in a dark room, put on my best nipple clamps, and knock off this last newsletter.

Sometimes, things conspire to remind me how important it is stop working so hard and spend more time cruising out! There is a real work ethic thing going around these days, but I for one, say work is unhealthy and best avoided.....

CU, Wheels.



Oli is still pumping out the bike repairs, from his workshop in Holloway Road. He was unable to live without regular use of his hammer, and after getting A's for his Uni English courses he just had had to get back to a more full scale dose of the well greased bicycle. An ever increasing clientele are making there way to his sumptuously appointed workshop (yes it really does have a magazine collection, a poster collection, armchairs, music, coffee and toast!). So if you've been getting lizzed out by some spastic monkey boy tuning your bike like a chump, give Oli a try. Check out his website at

Creating CS Newsletters in a Freak void

Back in the heyday of the Cycle Services shop, writing the newsletter was relatively straightforward. Within the confines of a mecca for every drug-addled mountain man and extreme-sport frenzied urban philosopher, it was just a matter of letting material transmute by osmosis and then recreating it word for word on dodgy looking green paper.

Having conversations with sifters who believe they are about to make it big time with get-rich schemes such as putting pharmaceutical grade THC in the water supply and then selling chocolate chip muffins wrapped in tin foil from a chain of armoured serving hatches in 10ft high corrugated iron fences (called “The Muffin House”) is an unfailing way to get material.

Like one of those dodgy pseudo docos on TV2, I sometimes think it would be interesting to go back and do “ex-crazed sifters on MTBs – where are they now?” But sadly, the truth is less bizarre than the suit-clad, Toyota-driving, cross-dressing bank employees who worshipped those ex sifters must have hoped for. Most of them have become creatures of the computer – hence the multitude of email addresses such as - where they beaver away working for “the man” (or in this day and age “the woman”) previously known in a more cynical age as “the tossers who run the country”. (It now appears they were not so much running it as selling it to the Americans, who, finding it wanting, have since chewed it up and just left the gristly bits)

And a huge portion of the sifterhood has found it necessary to go overseas. After making full use of their student loan facilities to purchase state of the art downhill bikes, which they later sold for half a ticket to get-me-the-hell-out-of-here, they find themselves being paid sums such as $NZ100 an hour to remain places where high quality drugs cost $NZ15 for a whole night’s kinky loving*. Sometimes they are tempted to come home and pay off their student loans working for $NZ20 an hour, but then the drugs wear off and they decide to go to a party in the Swiss Alps instead.

*And for a prime example of this, see the new competition - "Name the Sifter" - below!

As one of the people who helped convince so many impressionable minds that they required 4” of travel (back when 4” was damn impressive) and who instigated the charging up of this excess travel onto the government loan scheme, I sometimes feel slightly responsible. But then I go to Courtenay Place and see all the Honda CRXs scraping their lowered body skirts along the tarmac, unable to enter drive-ins because they get stuck on the judder bars, their teenage drivers deaf from 1000 watts of the gayest “oonce” music ever programmed onto a CD by a talentless Euro Burger King janitor. And I feel OK, cos I did my bit to stop the youth of yesterday turning out like such a bunch of Nanas, and what more can you do?

To a lot of us, those great days of mountain biking were about more than just mountain biking. They were about drugs and mountain biking. And with drugs came great, world changing ideas, the meaning of the universe and an insatiable quest for … food. Clearly, we weren’t trying to win Olympic medals. But if there was one thing we stood for, it was to stop posing and do the business.

Cycle Services was often a lot of fun, and the people who hung out there were what made it. They were a pretty unique bunch. It’s a shame that so much talent and ability should end up scattered around the globe. Hopefully, one day they will come back, because it will be a real waste if this country ends up nothing more than an American golf course. But that's not to say we have to sit around and let that happen. Even sifters can make shit happen sometimes.

Once I could write a newsletter, talk someone into running off 100 copies on the work photocopier and then leave it on the counter to sift off into the surrounding society like a virus or a dose of pharmaceutical grade THC in the water supply. Thankfully, we now have Mikey Havoc and Newsboy to go around instigating things like “arse” and “Gore is gay”, but where would we be without those shralving, sifting, totally frotting old days when we could say stuff like “hey tosser, your bike’s a liz bunch of arse and you’ve got a serious problem with your sphincter, so go tongue it.” And that was just the women. We were trendsetters all right, and it could all just be ancient history. But fortunately, there is still cyberspace….

Actual Road Riding


The purple jerseys are still out there - check out this team CS Roadie Chicks. They won the women's section of the recent Hope Gibbons TT. The team was Pip Thomson, Caroline West, Jane Williams, and Margaret Raddich.

Rider Profile - Guido the Donkey Boy

He's no chump, Wellington's answer to Seth Enslow is Guido the Donkey Boy. This hard riding, big air groover is equally at home on the hardtail or the donkey.

Name: Guido
Nickname: The Dinsman
Age: Young Spinner
Suburb: South of the Border
Occupation: Donkey Herder
Bike: "BOY" (not as gay as it sounds....but still quite gay)
Components: Rockshox 2001 Psylo forks, and some wheels and stuff
Extras: Fat pedals and a stumpy arse seat
Most awesome ride/race: Te Papa shrubs
Other favourite rides: Tinakori
Favourite food: Burritos, Meat Pies
Favourite music: Ozzy and Black Sabbath
Favourite films: Deliverance, Deuce Bigalow
Ambitions/aspirations: Motorcycle Stuntman
Hot comment action: Where is Jennifer?

Guido's Fan Mail

(a recent letter to Guido from one of his many admirers)


What have you done with yourself Senor Guido?

After our meeting, while traversing to a sqeeerel seeking mission, in the scrub on Mt Vic on my motorbike, I witnessed of a strange sight. Behold Senor Guido pedaling his velocipede down Taranaki street. After honking the vision still paid no attention, it was his pudding bowl helmet caused him no ears. He had no ears. His buddy Ben followed watching his AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRSSSSEEEE and looking for a dealer to partake transaction. I was increasingly eager to commence looking for the sqeeerels.

Later, these images causing me to seek companionship on the internet I was troubled to find the same visions still haunting me. Under thinly veiled pseudonyms the one known only as Guido proclaimed unspeakable travesties and I was stunned into submission. Uttering to assist the K Bros on a track building mission without payment, I realised he had been kidnapped by aliens and after the anal probing he became someone else, someone softer, without malice, he helped kittens cross the road and played hopscotch with the retarded Chilean hitman's inbred children.

Slipping into thoughts of the inevitable downward spiral, I lit up a pipe and inhaled deeply the quality northern cannabis that I had secured from my ex dealer now departed. Then with new clarity, I realised that the offer of track building was only to assist the seeking of sqeeerels, lurking deep within Makara Peak. The riding too was a product of the endless quest for sqeeerels. What have you done with my donkey you cattle rustler? Chops and gravy.

Yours in concrete, Mr Jennifer.

Name the Ex-CS Sifter Competition #2

The first person to correctly name the sifter, and his or her current location and occupation, from this excerpt from a recent email, will win a genuine purple CS drink bottle! (Names have been changed to make it less incriminating. Sure looks like some of ex clean living innocent sponsored riders have turned into toal devos. Hope no-one at CS started them on the slippery slope...)

... life is manic - "bruce" a friend of mine has got a cool apartment that has all this bullshit and a bose wank remote that works from 2km away when you want to turn up the chili peppers from the 7-11. i am also being hunted by a "algerian" chick called "doris" as i told her some cool "algerian" slang 'I esh longen shnarbel!'(i have a big dick! and they love to get naked as the summers are so short....or she just likes to get in my pants regularly. i told you about my friend "bruce" in algeria who has been on the island of sin for 2 years all through the manumission years? "bruce" & "doris" fuc*ing on stage that sort of stuff??? "bruce" working as a santa over xmas and fisting one of his elves in his grotty grotto, its one of the burdens of being viewed as a '"bruce" figure' , perk of the job i suppose...



Down with the kids

How to be cool in MTB discussion boards and get down with the kids. Ten easy ways to get some street cred.

1. Practise the elimination of all spelling, and punctuation. eg. "Wana by a 6 inh travle fork tha hannles big jupms like im da man"

2. Add "u suc" to all sentances - several times if posible eg. "Wana by a 6 inh travle fork tha hannles big u suc jupms like im da man and u suk"

3. Put in plenty of curse words but spell them in ways that get through the censor. These are the only words that you should spell correctly except for a change to one letter. eg. "h0mo, Fu(ker, @rse, Su(k Ma B@lls, G@y, Peni$, Boll0cks, H1ck, Dipsh1t, etc"

4. Be sure to abuse XC riders (what ever is being discussed). They are "g@y", they have their "seats up their @rses", and they dress in "tight lycra" (especially pink lycra) eg. "Wana by a 6 inh travle fork tha hannles big u suc jupms like im da man and u Su(k Ma B@lls like a xc pink lycra seat h0mo"

5. Make it clear that you are sick of XC punks dissing you for not being g@y enough. They will never stop harrasing you until you scare them off the bulletin board. eg "Get of dissing my track/ride/pants/ar$e you XC gimp, jus cus yore peni$ is to small to handel a real track/ride/pants/ar$e, an if i see you on the track im gonna smash u bigtime loser."

6. Talk like an African American from a hood in South Central LA. eg. "Wha yu dis my ride 4 like a crackhows niga homes when i jus wana by a 6 inh travle fork tha hannles big u suc jupms like im da man and u Su(k Ma B@lls like a xc pink lycra seat h0mo"


7. Use the words "Pornst*r" (good), and "Blender" (bad) eg: "Wha yu dis my ride 4 like a crackhows niga homes when i jus wana by a 6 inh travle fork tha hannles big u suc jupms like im da pornst*r man and u Su(k Ma B@lls like a xc pink lycra seat h0mo blender"

8. Be sure to bring Peni$ size into the mix. Remember that all XC riders have very small peni$es, that is why they can't ride downhill. eg (real example...): "think you beta rekognize fool that you cant ride DH cus ure peni$ is to small so @!#$ break yourself chump cos you is loosin the battle!!!!!!!"

9. Remember, you cannot say "u suc" to many times. Be inventive in creating ways to include it more frequently. Additional mispellings will enhance the impact. eg "Suk u su(k up yuo suc ar$e sukka!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

10. Put it all together and mix things up a little so XC riders, and blenders won't be able to become part of the scene. eg "Suc u dis my ride niga homes up yuo suc up u suk xc h0mo jus wana 6 inh travle fork tha hannles big u suc jupms im da pornst*r man and u Su(k Ma B@lls like xc pink lycra seat no peni$ homo blender an i am da pornst*r man so jus get of my case fool or im gonna smash u bigtime loser."

(TRANSLATION: "Does anyone have a set of six inch travel DH forks they would like to sell?)


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