Wit & Attitude Quote by Terry Prachett

Pratchett takes a travel gripe and turns it into a miniature farce about competing civic myths: the humane, progressive city versus the petty anarchy of everyday life. The line works because it commits, instantly, to the narrator's outraged subjectivity. "Where the hell they like" and "state of rage" aren’t measured observations; they’re the exaggerations you reach for when you feel briefly powerless in public space. Pratchett’s comic engine is that familiar social inversion: pedestrians, supposedly the default, become the intruders. Cyclists aren't just inconsiderate, they're a faction with doctrine, and "the concept of avoiding people being foreign to them" mockingly frames bad manners as anthropology.

The subtext is sharper than a mere anti-bike rant. Amsterdam, as a symbol, carries international cachet: efficient, enlightened, built for humans instead of cars. Pratchett punctures that postcard with a more universal truth about infrastructure and entitlement: any group given right-of-way will eventually start treating it like moral rightness. The bell becomes a tiny instrument of soft coercion, a cheerful-sounding noise deployed as a warning and a reprimand. It’s polite aggression.

Context matters, too. Pratchett’s comedy often hinges on systems - institutions, guilds, crowds - and how quickly they convert ideals into rituals and power plays. Here, the city’s celebrated cycling culture becomes a microcosm of how "good" collective choices still produce everyday tyrannies. The joke lands because it’s less about Amsterdam than about the constant negotiation of space, status, and who gets to move unimpeded.