Oxford white van man (WVM) is a phenomenon, not always pleasant. Hot weather makes him worse.

A friend swears he’s frequently targeted by WVM as he rides his bike to his university department.

Since promoting cycling is both a university and council-backed initiative, there will be more, not fewer of them. For any rogue WVM out there: Oxford’s full of experts. Don’t knock them – or knock them off; you never know when you might need them.

It doesn’t surprise me. I’m sensitised to the phenomenon. WVM has form.

I take precautions. I stand back on Oxford’s wet pavements after heavy rain. You know, when the drains can no longer cope and the gutters are full of filthy water: it’s a Bridget Jones moment.

You can sense when WVM is bearing down on you with mischievous intent. Stand back. Best the spray soak his accelerating vehicle – not you, or your fellow walkers – the young mother pushing a buggy with a toddler in tow, or an elderly lady, hesitant and unsteady with her walking frame, who rarely ventures out.

Even rogue WVM has a mother. Shame on you!

Another time, WVM performed an illegal and reckless manoeuvre. It dismayed pedestrians. They rightly feared for their safety. He and I exchanged words. I was inspired by several, he by only one: ‘B****’. If this had been a Charlie’s Angels script I would have twirled him around my head like Lucy Liu, and sent him spinning into the nearest wheelie bin. More’s the pity.

And what about the time I attempted the Plains roundabout – I thought competently.

WVM took both hands off the wheel. He flicked not one V sign – but two. Now that’s passion!

Same place, different time, I could understand it. I admit I was distracted.

It was like this. One May morning, just after dawn, I was heading for the Plains round-about. I’d drawn the short straw. It was my turn to drop off some choristers for early morning choir practice before they climbed Magdalen Tower to greet the day. Magdalen Bridge was packed with revellers, many of whom had been up all night.

I had a car full of sleepy children. Some were pretty grumpy. As we approached from St Clements I caught sight of something pinkish. It was then we all woke up.

In the centre of the Plains roundabout was a living tableau. It was made up of naked rugby players. They were a little unsteady in formation – but no matter. We all enjoyed the spectacle.

Having delivered my passengers I was just in time to see the last bare leg disappear into a black cab, which drove swiftly away with its eye-catching cargo.

So you can see, I may be at fault too.

This week, in the spirit of removals, WVM and I joined ranks. I loved my van. It was white, gleaming and a joy to drive. I experienced nothing but kindness at the wheel: drivers gave way, WVM let me out at T-junctions, road works waved me through with a friendly hand. Miguel at the car hire was a delight.

So come on WVM everywhere: let’s make this summer – even if it’s a wet one – a pleasure, not a pain.

Drivers, pedestrians, cyclists – we all share our city. Courtesy not crassness – even if, sometimes, you are in the right.