I remember drinking in the White Lion one night after work with Julian Heathcote, a fellow banker and cyclist. On my way back from the gents', resplendent in my Lycra cycling shorts, I noticed someone had got Tom, the landlord, pinned back against a table and was repeatedly punching him in the face. Having had a couple of pints, I instinctively pulled the man off, Tom only being a little (though sinewy) Scot, and then, just as instinctively, I ducked because I realised I was about to get punched. When I looked up, however, the attacker was actually heading for the door. It wasn't long before the police arrived, Streatham nick being over the road. In the meantime I was given a swift half, which was all my adrenalin-rushed body could take, on the house. It turned out to be a revenge attack by a big Irish family in the area, one of whom Tom had banned from the pub. I even went to court as a witness, but the rest is mystery. I don't think the pub's even called the White Lion any more. And where was Julian?

I remember Bill Boaks, who used to cycle around Wimbledon with billboards about road safety all over his bike.

I remember odhu/ntinggo, Big Chief I-Spy's sign-off in his column in the News Chronicle and in his books.

I remember Walter Potts, a character in Coronation Street. I think he was a window-cleaner with aspirations to be a pop star and with Dennis Tanner's help, he made a record, which I think was released in real life. Christopher Sandford was the actor's name.

I remember Travis Bickle saying: "Someday a real rain will come and wash the scum off the streets."