5 miles in 45 conversational minutes may limit my conversation to "yes", "no" and "fur cough". Hardly on the Stephen Fry or Peter Ustinov scale of raconteuring, but I'll have a go.
I won't be wearing my larey yellow pirate clobber, mind. Wonderful as it is for garnering support in the last, exhausting stages of a race, it looks pretty deathly any other time. Hyde Park at lunchtime ain't the time to sport a bright yellow sausage skin and hotpants. Not unless I can fit in a full body wax and a spray tan it isn't anyway.
See you there chums.