Red lights, white lines, black tar rivers

"I try not to go through red lights but I'm not the Pope," says one of the ninety-three cyclists caught jumping red lights in three hours in central Oxford.

I've often seen cars and buses creeping slowly through a red light, as if they were cyclists who couldn't take their feet off the pedals, but I've cynically assumed that they were just intent on being a yard or two further ahead of the car behind them when the lights change (or that they didn't know how to brake). Perhaps I misjudged them: perhaps they're actually grappling with their conscience.

I wonder if the cars I photograph parking on double yellow lines and in cycle lanes are also trying really hard not to park illegally. I'm trying really hard not to photograph them, but they just keep slipping into the viewfinder. Imagine how hard it would be to avoid it if I had a camera strapped to my head.