The debate about helmet use is too often toxic, puts off new riders and obscures more important issues, argues the founder of Vulpine

Last night I walked into a pub and spotted a guy with two empty pint glasses in front of him. He had a lovely fresh third pint poised at his trembling lips. Fantastic, just what I was looking for.

“You idiot!” I shouted as I stormed up to him, pulling the glass away and pouring the contents onto the floor with a dramatic flourish. “Stop drinking or you will die!” I walked on, chest puffed out with pride. Another liver-abuser converted. I have saved a life. This feels good!

Next stop, Colonel Chicken’s Cluck Shack. A queue of smelly teenage schoolboys in ill-fitting blazers, greasy hands tucking into breaded legs and fried potatoes. One walked out and I grabbed his oil-stained cardboard box, shaking it in his face “This filth will kill you, you fool. How DARE you eat it?”