Cadel and the Tour Da Farce

As I sup on my mulled wine from the deepest regions of Sicily, I consider things of great portense, things that the average human being has no time for…in fact probably if I were to be more devishly brutal ,most haven’t the grey matter to process. Yes I’m extremely mortified with the latest assault on one of this country’s greatest sportsman, Cadel Evans…yes I do have a problem with his name but that issue aside..how dare those frog eaters sabotage his and other potential champions chances for glory in Lycra, podium nirvana and so on. Now let me not get too distracted with the thought of Lycra on a grown man and bulging groinal areas, though I tend to not focus on those things so much but that being said it appears Cadel is definitely well endowed in the one meat and two veg category..if you succour my flambience…though I digress of the major latitude. These French are I dare say heinous bastards…yes blaspheme…bastards… when we fought them with my great great grandfathers blood ,with Nelson by his side we showed them what King and country meant…and of course, never has there been a more pathetic debacle than the scourge of Austria’s driving Miss Daisy invasion of France in the second great war…yes it was as simple as Adolf Hitler calling up his chauffer, “please bring the stretch Merc we’re off to Paris for the day”. Yes my god it was that simple and whilst the French ate cake..we pitted ourselves on the other side of the ditch to save Queen and country and then with much manevolence, we  later extricated  them out of the pathetic hole they slid into. No I have no time for the French and less time for this Tour Da Farce, next year I propose we have our own great race and call it “The  Tour Down Under” there will be no Tack or nail throwing and hopefully no padding of the Lycra Groinal area that seems to wreak of penal inadequacy. Yes Cadel has my unreserved support but not those French lunatics…time to top up the decanter…toodily pops Tartly Roud