I’d blagged my way to a free ticket, presumably on the basis that I’d bring my camera. That was the day I fully appreciated just how hard it is to take photographs of bicycle racing. These little bastards are fast.
Fabio Close wears number 55, and the scars from a crash the previous day.
Stepping outside to walk the dog this morning, I noticed it was more than a bit chilly. Being a bit of a cyclist, my thoughts turned instantly to winter training camps, half-arsed doping allegations thrown at Team Sky for sensibly buggering off to Tenerife instead of stupidly staying in the freezing weather Europe has to offer, and what to wear when I go out on my bike later.
Then it dawned on me. It’s all Superman’s fault.
In the 1978 documentary Superman, the so-called ‘Man of Steel’ got all upset and stuff because the girl he fancied had met an unfortunate end before he’d even shagged her. Being a resourceful chap, he did what any superhuman being from Krypton would do, and reversed the rotation of the planet, turning back time, rescuing Lois (for that was her name), and returning the Earth to it’s previously held rotation and setting time off again*. Well, he didn’t. Superman cocked it up.
“Arrgggghhhhhhh!” said Superman in 1978.
He didn’t get the spin right. He cocked it up and got it all ever so slightly wonky. This is why the weather is fucked. It’s all Superman’s fault. Take your science, your research into chloroflourocarbons, fridges and cow farts, and shove it up your arse. It’s his fault, and I know it. Prove it’s not.
*Not necessarily in that order, but it’s been a while since I’ve watched it. I’m sure some pedant will pipe up at this point, telling me I’ve got the order wrong. So what?