My favourite C-Chest card was always You Have Won Second Prize in a Beauty Contest, Collect £10. Clearly, the only way this could happen to me would be in a field of two. 
Actually, the ROH (right) is a fine place to cycle to. I've done it many times, and often seen people in their poshest clothes bound for an all-star Traviata or Bohème locking up their Bromptons to the convenient and reasonably plentiful bike parking right opposite. 
Bow St is a fairly pleasant cycle, and a popular back-street-ish cycle route north from (or south to) Waterloo Bridge. You can peel off handily for Covent Garden too. 
It has a bit of a slope downhill in the bridge direction, and if you time it right you can freewheel across the bike cut-through at the bottom (which is actually Wellington St, quite an electric sort of place) with a green bike signal. 
If you see other examples of this sort of thing - that is, badly parked bikes collapsed onto perfectly legally parked cars, causing possible damage to the paintwork - remember to do the decent thing: take a picture of it and upload it to Twitter, so everyone can have a look.
Chiltern Railways run from here to places such as Birmingham, High Wycombe, Aylesbury, Stratford and ahh... Bicester! Bikes go free and don't need to be reserved, but aren't allowed on rush hour services. Wrexham and Shropshire Railways are a new small company providing services to Wrexham, with some cheap deals; their bike policy seems undecided yet, and they say they allow bikes for a small charge on certain services but not in peak hours. 
Monopoly's Marylebone Station costs £200. What could this buy you there? Assuming Wrexham and Shropshire do allow you to bikes on the services you want, you could book five normal-price returns (not advance tickets or special offers) to Telford. From there your party could spend a very pleasant day or two going down the Silkin Way to Ironbridge and exploring the Severn.
We think this is an excellent initiative, and has the advantage of being self-regulating: come back too many times trying to score another free beer and you'll be unable to remember the answers.
The Fahrradbus drivers have bus driving licences - they usually drive the city's powered buses. They were clearly having a lot of fun.
At least the sign above has the right number of wheels. Perhaps this one, outside Queenstown Road station in Battersea, is mkaing the point that you have to lock both wheels to the frame or rack, or else somebody will nick one of them.
But how do all these dangerous high-speed joggers keep tabs on their speed? And surely 20kph is getting on for world-record pace for long distance running? Are Darwin's residents that super-fit?
Its four hundred yards of dull, stony, hotel-front grandeur runs from Trafalgar Square (right) to the big traffic on Victoria Embankment by the top of the Jubilee Bridges (bottom right).
There's some bike parking (right) conveniently situated opposite the Sherlock Holmes pub. You're as likely to find a local in here as find me at a royal garden party: it's a contrived tourist device, but done with so much charm that Peter Haydon and Chris Coe highlight it in their fine book The London Pub. 
Monopoly's Northumberland Ave costs £160. What could this buy you there? Book with internet discount and you could just about snaffle a night in the Citadines Apart-hotel, for a one-bedroom apartment taking up to four people. You'd probably take your bike into the room with you.
Towards the bottom end is the Cenotaph (right) bearing the sombre inscription to THE GLORIOUS DEAD, not a particularly encouraging message if you're dodging the heavy traffic: I don't want to be glorious just yet, thanks. 
Cycle parking is notoriously absent here, because of the constant terrorist threat from bombs concealed in bike frames. The no-parking policy has been so successful that plotters have had to switch tactics and use less effective, lower-impact methods, such as attempting to blow up airliners. 
Downing Street runs off Whitehall. Until 1989 you could walk or cycle down it, right up to the coppers guarding the door of No. 10, where the Prime Minister lives. (I once went inside, to interview Norma Major. It's surprisingly cramped and complicated inside, with lots of twisting stairs and connecting doors and half-levels. As for Mrs M, she was quite charming, bless her.) Now of course Downing St is gated off with rifle-toting guards (right) who would probably shoot your tyres out if you tried to ride past them. 
So, in the spirit of reinvention, we've chosen Tate Modern (above) as our Electric Company. Originally the site of Bankside Power Station, opposite St Paul's (right) on the south bank, it closed in 1981 - to be reopened in 2000 as a big modern-art gallery. (Well, 'modern' in the sense of 'after 1900'.) 
Tate Modern has temporary paid-for exhibitions, but most of it is free. Big stuff (usually the headline temporary exhibit) goes in the massive Turbine Hall, and often seems only loosely describable as 'art': at certain 'exhibitions' we've spent happy hours sliding down flumes and exploring circus-style adventure playgrounds and didn't know we were being all clever and artistic.
And Tate Modern is an excellent place to visit by bike, right on the riverside path that you can cycle (pretty much all the way) from Vauxhall to Tower Bridge. It seems OK to park on the railings right outside the entrance now (right, more convenient than the covered bike shed next to it): for a while earlier this year they put up notices saying it wasn't allowed. That seemed to coincide with Barack Obama's visit to London, a link I can't quite fathom.
You can wander round the galleries and talk bollocks about the exhibits confidently in a loud voice, having ensured first that what you're commenting on really is a work of art and not a lift or cleaner's cupboard or something. 
It's one way westwards - meaning an irritating walk along the pavement if you're heading eastwards (right) - and when you are heading the right way, it can be an unpleasant joust with pulses of fast-moving big traffic switching lanes around you, especially in the split right off up Regent St. 
Parking's a bit rubbish too, and all those gents evidently visiting their clubs by bicycle must end up chaining them to the railings. I once worked briefly at the Institute of Directors, in a building that used to be a gent's club, and if that's anything to go by they can be pokier inside than their imposing exteriors suggest.
Pall Mall is also a brand of cigarette, which does suggest a kind of Smoking Tour of London by Bike. This could be my next series; perhaps a smoker could help me. We could go to (an) Embassy, then Kent, Marlboro (-ugh St), Mayfair, Pall Mall, Parliament, Strand, and finally via King's (College Hospital) to Richmond (Cemetery).
Anyway, for cycling-leisure gaol visit, we've chosen The Clink prison museum (right). It celebrates the grisly goings-on in the notorious medieval prison, which stood here from the 1100s to 1780. It's on a Dickensian cobbled street on the south bank in an area enjoyable to nose around by bike: just along the riverfront from Tate Modern, round the corner from Borough Market and several characterful pubs. 
There's no bike parking in Clink St; the nearest stands are round the corner. In 2001 I retrieved my folding bike from a lamppost in Clink St to find a builder's lorry had passed by too closely. The problem was, it hadn't been a folding bike before. 
Actually I've never been in the Clink museum. I'm a local, dammit, we don't do the visitor-attractions thing. Why go to Madame Tussaud's to be ripped off when you can get an Easyjet flight for twenty quid to be ripped off in Prague instead? But I have been to the Clink Bar (right), in the Anchor pub on Bankside just next door. Looking at some of the reviews of the pub, which I think it's fair to say are 'mixed', a spell in the medieval prison might be preferable.
It was a fine spectacle, and enjoyable to see such a staggering number of bikes saturating the route (Buckingham Palace to Tower Bridge and back, essentially) and St James's Park (the rest and recreation area). There were lots of happy people, tons of families, and most people seemed delighted to be there. Which is good. 
But, as with the Hounslow Skyride last month, I feel uneasy about several things. One is the implied message that cycling round London can only be done once a year with the help of heavy sponsorship, police cooperation and road closures. 
I didn't care for the dumbed-down hectoring of the emcees along the route either, telling us to wave our arms in the air and shout, smacked too much of those 'spontaneous demonstrations' in support of the regime in tinpot Soviet-era countries.
But then the Skyride isn't for me; I'm happier cycling round London at my own pace to my own schedule. It's for all those occasional cyclists who might just be persuaded to do more cycling, such as the same time next year. 
The best effect the Skyride could have would be to persuade London to have a regular traffic-free selection of roads on Sunday, like Paris or Bogota. If that happened I'd happily put on the reflective bib, ding my bell when the emcee says, and follow the marshal's directions to the letter next year. 
It provides plenty of bike parking for employees, too - but it's an amusing object lesson in what not to do. The racks provided are all wheelbenders, right out of a 1970s bike shed. Every single cyclist had sensibly ignored them and just locked up to the railings instead (right). 
As for the race, finishing excitingly in front of the Houses of Parliament (right), it was that usual spectator sequence of 
