On yer bike pal

A week in the Tour (or to be more culturally sensitive, le Tour) has come and gone, with some fairly predictable results: A sprinter is in yellow. The route makes two fifths of fuck all sense. Phil Liggett keeps pronouncing Liquigas as 'Leakygas'. Someone has crashed into a motorbike. The Manx Mong has won a stage or two (usually by being led by the nose right to the line like a blind mole rat) and wailed like a little bitch on the occasions he hasn't. All as per programme.

Apart from two points of atypical atypicalness: noone has been busted for drugs yet, and reigning Tour champion Alberto C*ntador keeps falling off his treadly.


Now, you'd figure someone who'd won the odd Grand Tour, like El Twatador, would have a grasp of that critical, if underrated skillset of not crashing your very expensive, very flimsy racing bicycle into things, like the ground, or other people. Apparently not, given that C*ntador has managed to drop it into the bushes on more stages than he hasn't so far this year. The causation factor remains obscure. An inner ear imbalance? Choosing slicks rather than wets? Nudged off by jealous competitors? Or is he just a fucking tosser? Disturbing as it may seem, despite the camaraderie and code of ethics amongst the peleton, it may well be that C*ntador is being quietly eased into the roadside furniture by his fellow pros, just because of who he is. A fucking tosser.


However, it has enabled possibly the most ironic piece of commentary to ever pass the lips of prehistoric cycling commentarialist Phil 'Leakygas' Liggett, as broadcast on Stage 6 this morning NZST: "Now, they won't attack Contador while he's having bike trouble..."

A courtesy he didn't extend to Andy Schleck last year, of course.


The Doctor is OUT. It's a pity C*ntador isn't.