It was supposed to be a celebration of youth cycling, local heritage, and the rolling Welsh countryside. Instead, the 2025 Junior Race of South Wales has found itself at the center of a national conversation—one that has little to do with athletic achievement and everything to do with the power (and pitfalls) of technology, tradition, and the English language.
Over the August Bank Holiday weekend, the small but storied village of Three Cocks in Powys played host to the opening stages of the prestigious junior cycling event, known locally as Ras Ieuenctid De Cymru. For two days, riders from across Britain thundered through the village’s rural lanes, cheered on by locals and visitors alike. Stage one, a 76-kilometer sprint circuit, and stage two, a 10-kilometer individual time trial, both unfolded against the historic backdrop of Three Cocks—a name that’s been part of the landscape for more than five centuries.
Yet, as the peloton whirred past the Three Cocks Inn—a welcoming establishment that has offered travelers warmth and hospitality for 500 years—the event’s official website was causing a stir of its own. In a move that has since been widely mocked and debated, British Cycling’s event listing replaced the village’s name with the cryptic “Three *****.” The asterisks, it turns out, were the work of an automated filter, intended to spare blushes but instead igniting a storm of criticism and ridicule.
“We apologise for this accidental censorship which was caused by some overly sensitive filters on our website,” a British Cycling spokesperson said in a statement. “Clearly the system decided, inappropriately, to spare our blushes and auto-censored the historic Three Cocks village from the Junior Race of South Wales. Whilst it’s great to see this fantastic event getting such national attention, we’ll be having a serious look at the new systems we’re implementing to ensure that technology doesn’t override common sense in future!”
The apology did little to stem the tide of commentary. Social media lit up with jokes, outrage, and more than a few pointed questions about the decision to censor a place name that, for locals, is a matter of pride and heritage. “Far too offensive to have cockerels crowing over the Welsh countryside, let alone three,” quipped one online commentator. Another added, “I’d be offended if my village name had been altered like that. Who on earth is going to be offended by Three Cocks?”
The name itself is rooted in the coats of arms of the Williams family of Old Gwernyfed, the former landowners whose heraldic emblems—three male chickens—gave the village its distinctive moniker some 500 years ago. The Three Cocks Inn, a fixture of the community and a beacon for travelers, boasts of its longevity and hospitality: “The building has stood here for 500 years offering the traveller and visitor a relaxed and warm welcome. It is extremely spacious and comfortable, helping us to create a feeling of warmth and wellbeing.”
For many, the incident was more than just a digital blunder. The Abergavenny Chronicle, a regional newspaper, decried the move as an affront to local heritage: “The historic heritage of places such as Three Cocks deserves better than to be castrated by a censoring hand.” Others saw it as a symptom of what some called “taking wokeness too far,” with accusations that British Cycling’s filters were policing language rather than respecting centuries-old tradition. “This is just taking wokeness too far. It is a perfectly acceptable old English word which has been around for centuries,” another critic wrote. “You must have a pretty smutty sort of mind to think anyone would be offended by it.”
It wasn’t just the village’s residents who felt slighted. The story was picked up by national outlets, with cycling fans and cultural commentators alike weighing in. Some found humor in the situation, while others expressed concern that such automated censorship could erase or alter the identity of places with historic and cultural significance. “Village heritage was ‘castrated’,” ran one memorable headline, echoing the sense that something more than a name had been lost in translation between tradition and technology.
British Cycling, for its part, moved quickly to correct the error. The event listing was updated to restore the village’s name, and the organization promised a review of its website systems to prevent future mishaps. “We’ll be having a serious look at the new systems we’re implementing to ensure that technology doesn’t override common sense in future!” the spokesperson reiterated.
Meanwhile, the race itself continued to unfold amid the bucolic scenery of Powys and neighboring counties. After the opening stages in Three Cocks, the riders tackled a 66-mile stage departing from the village, followed by a demanding 69-mile “climber’s stage” that tested the mettle of even the most promising young cyclists. While the controversy over the village name threatened to overshadow the athletic achievements on display, the spirit of competition and community remained undimmed.
The Junior Race of South Wales is a highlight of the British cycling calendar, offering a proving ground for the next generation of talent. The event’s passage through Three Cocks was intended as a nod to both the village’s hospitality and its deep roots in Welsh history. For the hundreds of riders, organizers, and spectators, the name on the map was never in doubt—only on the website did confusion reign, however briefly.
As the dust settles and the peloton moves on, the episode stands as a reminder of the sometimes awkward intersection between modern technology and enduring tradition. In a world where algorithms can inadvertently erase centuries of heritage with a few asterisks, the story of Three Cocks is a cautionary tale—and a rallying cry for common sense, context, and a dash of humor.
Back in the village, the Three Cocks Inn continues to welcome travelers, just as it has for half a millennium. The road signs, in both English and Welsh, remain unchanged. And for the young cyclists who raced through its lanes, the memory of the event—and its unexpected notoriety—will likely linger long after the finish line.
While British Cycling’s filters may have tried to spare some digital blushes, the real story is one of resilience, heritage, and the unbreakable bond between a community and its name. As the cycling world looks ahead to future races, one thing’s for sure: the village of Three Cocks won’t be censored out of the conversation again.
