This stage is hilly. It will be good for the attackers.
The teams roll out of Laissac-Sévérac l'Eglise on their way to Le Puy-en-Velay.
Froomey has got back the yellow jersey.
Everyone is glum, except for Team Sky and Froomey.
Froomey in yellow! Has everything so far been for nothing?
Sweezus and Arthur are discussing this topic, as they pass a scenic field of the Aubrac, in which hay bales spell out L' ANIME DU TOUR.
Sweezus: Yeah but it's like.....
Arthur Déjà vu?
Sweezus: Again.
Arthur: You don't need to say 'again'. It's implicit
Sweezus: Yeah right. Huuuh! Froomey in yellow.
Arthur: Who knows? He might get a puncture. Or a broken spoke.
Sweezus (mimicking Froomey): Eew! My spoke broke! Help me!
Arthur: Picnic tomorrow.
Sweezus: Cool. Yeah, maybe it's not all for nothing.
Arthur: True. Where's Gaius?
Sweezus: Dunno.
......
Gaius, thinking his task is to lead Sweezus out, is up ahead, glancing back every so often.
Team Philosophe catches up.
Vello: Ah, Gaius! Just the man.
Gaius: What for?
David: Jacobi has a bee in his bonnet.
Gaius: Nothing to be done about that. Rules are rules. No antihistamines.
Vello: Not that sort of bee. A bee called Spinoza.
Jacobi: Ha Ha! Exactly. A bee!
David: Vello and I think we might have met him, on a train travelling through the outback. We think you were with us. But our memories are vague.
Gaius: Of course I remember. Spinoza was going to the Masters.
Vello: Oh yes, the Masters. And what happened?
Gaius: He tried to eat Ageless.
David: Oh ha ha! Yes he did. It's all coming back now.
Jacobi: It's just what I would have expected from that atheist.
Vello: Come on boys! This is the start of the Col de Peyra Taillade. Put in some effort!
David: Ha! Look Froomey's in trouble! A puncture.
Froomey (from the side of the road): Eew! My spoke broke! Help me.
Vello: Hurrah! Let's hope no one helps him.
David: No, look! Kwiatkowski is giving him his wheel.
Jacobi: Jammy!
......
At the finish, in Le Puy-en-Velay.
The metal Virgin is watching from her high rock base.
Look baby, says the Virgin to her baby. Look, it's Mollema!
Molle, says the metal baby. Molle-molle!
Hush, says the metal Virgin. Is that my mobile?
It is. She can barely hear it for the crowds cheering Bauke Mollema, and also for the fact that it is in a deep pocket, smothered in copious folds.
It's the Virgin of Rodez.
Marie? It's me, Marie.
Yes, Marie? I'm just watching the finish.
Oh, who's winning?
Bauke Mollema. He's soloing to the finish line right now. O fantastic!
Since when did you become a fan of the Dutch?
Is he Dutch? Never mind that, what is it?
Terence is on the loose again. I just missed him yesterday. If he turns up, you might help him. He's being pursued by two reprobate clowns. They've stolen his spinning plate, and locked it in a suitcase. At least that's how I understand the situation.
Okay, Marie, I'll keep an eye out. Bye now.
The metal Virgin looks down at her metal baby.
Do you remember your cousin Terence?
Molle-molle, says the baby.
The Virgin sighs. She can't wait for her baby to be capable of a decent conversation.
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