I witnessed a very similar display of Lycra-clad bell-endery on the commute home earlier this week. A gaggle of roadies, obviously a club run, spread across the road, so that no-one could pass them, as they casually chatted to each other about EPO, or lobotomies, or pasta, or arse cream, coping with boredom, or whatever roadies bang on to each other about. This was on a busy A Road, after dark, at rush hour.
I was heading the other way, and despaired of the fact that everyone stuck behind the bunch of inconsiderate strokers will lump us all in with nobbers like that!