You mean the ones that would sometimes come loose just when Alison Myers drove by in the back of her parents car and you, in a desperate bid to be noticed, stood up on the pedals grasping your high-rise handlebars and with a look of determination on your face lurch forward, skin your achillies tendon and land firmly on the crossbar of your bicycle. White faced you manage to look up and see Alison staring back at you with a mixture of mirth and disdain. Those pins?
Sawlty