The Guardian sees itself as a trendy, centre-left newspaper and is a self-appointed chronicler of high culture. Its roots were in the actual left-wing: to provide a worker's perspective and a counterpoint to the traditional view of a nation that revolved around London.
Today, many of the 'workers' who read the Guardian will be doing so while snacking on Goji berries, reading about a world that revolves around their second home in the Luberon.
Cavendish is something entirely exotic for the Guardian readership. A sportsperson who isn't university educated and uses the four-letter word with a frequency that hasn't been heard since Oasis and Irvine Welsh were cool. A homegrown product of a British society that is elsewhere full of the very politically correct, self-censoring bluster that the Guardian and its ilk helped to create.
He is thus a unique, earthy discovery, a Savage in the Brave New World whose every kilometre has already been mapped with Google satellite photos and GPS coordinates.
And with a note of vanilla in that herby bouquet, generous body and slightly acid finish, it's also what this Cavendish fellow
does. Cycling is eco-friendly, continental and full of scandal that's harmless to the mainstream UK (un)conscious.
Cycling is the new cricket. So take the Guardian with a pinch of oregano.
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