This guy turns up with his full carbon bike (which comes in under the UCI weight limit) on the roof rack of his Porsche Cayenne, parks across two spaces in whichever field has been pressed into service for the purpose and studiously ignores everybody else in said pasture.

He will more than likely be dressed head-to-toe in all-black, expensive cycling/fashion gear with £50 worth of strange nutritional supplements stuffed in his pockets; organic energy gels and protein-enriched quinoa, etc etc.

Watch him as he hares off into the distance at the earliest point possible – if you’re lucky this will be the last you’ll see of him. Unfortunately, though, this is usually also the guy who fails to properly follow the the signposted route, thanks in no small part to his aversion to riding with anybody else who might be able to help in spotting those impossibly tiny fluorescent arrows that mark the way.

As a result, the next time you see him he will be part-way through a 45 minute whinging session about the route to the organisers at the end.