You've Eaten A Parrot!

Belle sits up, hoping no one heard Terence's prediction.

A baby.

And her uncensored reply.

What's that? asks Sweezus. Is Terence being annoying?

No more than usual, says Belle. He's filled my shoes up with leg hairs.

Sweezus ducks his head under under the table.

The wine glasses shiver.

Come out Terence!

Terence doesn't want to just yet.

Sweezus gets off his seat and crawls under the table.

I heard the prediction, whispers Pablo to Belle. You and I, we could make a baby.

That's very nice of you Pablo, says Belle, but I don't want a baby.

If ever you do, most beautiful lady..... says Pablo, leaving it open.

It's kind of embarrassing. Luckily Sweezus is under the table.

What the devil are you doing down there? cries Vello. Come on out. Terence should never have been allowed down there in the first place.

Terence comes out first, his shorts covered in Sea Salt.

Fuck! says Sweezus, emerging behind him. Anyone got a ..... something to ...

Arthur remembers the champagne sabre in his pocket.

He hands it to Sweezus and continues chewing his black pig and deep fried whelks.

Sweezus ducks back under the table with the champagne sabre.

Sit here, Terence, says Belle, and I'll order some raspberry sorbet with fluffy white mousse and crunchy biscuit topping.

Terence looks around the table. What has everyone else got?

His glance falls on Humboldt's plate.

O yuck o horror! A parrot's foot clawing its way through a bed of black seeds !

You've eaten a parrot! yells Terence.

The whole Clown Bar falls silent.

No he hasn't! shouts Vello. The infant is mistaken!

The Clown Bar resumes its usual buzz.

Eh bien! Simplement, c'était un pigeon!

Sweezus emerges, balancing a sabre load of Sea Salt.

The sabre now requires a description.

It is a small curved knife, blunted, because to remove the top of a champagne bottle requires force, not sharpness. Arthur values it less for this reason. The sabre in this instance is loaded with Sea Salt.

Sweezus places it carefully on the table, next to his oysters and eel in green sea soup.

Well done, Sweezie, says Belle. What about the leg hairs in my shoes?

Saint Roley's onto it, says Sweezus.

Yes, Saint Roley is onto it. To this point he has not enjoyed his visit to the Clown Bar.

Paris: The House With Leg Walls

Before we go our separate ways, says Vello, I'm inviting you all to dinner tonight at the Clown Bar.

Including us? asks Sweezus.

Yes, says Vello.

Including me? asks Terence.

If you stay silent, says Belle. No wee jokes. And no lunch box.

I'll mind the lunch box, says Saint Roley.

.......

Later that night, they all meet at the Clown Bar.

It's in the Folie Méricourt, and is cool and hipster.

Humboldt looks at the menu.

Rich tender pigeon with fresh raspberries. He will have that.

But should he? Pigeon? What about Terence?

This is nice, says Gaius. But the food looks a bit rich for our Team Director.

His piles are cured, says David. It was jumping around in a clown suit that did it.

Shut up! says Vello. A fine subject! I am now back to normal. And I can tell you this. I'm done with clowning.

Then why are you wearing the frilled collar? asks Belle.

Ah! says Vello. To blend in.

But no one else in the Clown Bar has a frilled collar. It's not hipster.

How was I to know? asks Vello.

Sweezus, Arthur and Pablo arrive, with Terence, Saint Roley and the lunch box.

What can I have? asks Terence.

Shut up, says Sweezus. I'll order.

Terence crawls under the table.

This poses a dilemma for Saint Roley. Where should he go?

Come in, says Terence. It's a house with leg walls.

Saint Roley hops in, with caution.

Right, says Vello. Order whatever you like, I'll choose the wine.

Black pig with deep fried whelks, says Pablo.

You're kidding, says Sweezus.

No he isn't, says Arthur. Black pig with deep fried whelks. 

Sweezus doesn't like the sound of it.

He orders a bowl of warm oysters and smoked eel in green sea soup.

Adventurous, says Belle.

She kicks her shoes off under the table. This will be a good night.

She has forgotten that Terence is down in the leg house, with Saint Roley.

Belle's shoes! says Terence. Let's put them in the lunch box.

Saint Roley holds his judgement on that.

Terence opens the lunch box. No Sea Salt. Only leg hairs.

Where's the Sea Salt? asks Saint Roley.

In my shorts pocket, says Terence. Come on, let's put Belle's shoes in.

With the leg hairs? Saint Roley is doubtful.

She deserves it, says Terence.

Belle sticks her head under the table.

Fluffy white mousse with raspberry sorbet anyone? says Belle.

See! says Terence.

What's that in my shoes? asks Belle. 

Writing, says Terence. Your fortune.

O yes, and what is my fortune? asks Belle.

Terence has no idea. It's dark under the table. What would Belle like?

A baby, says Terence.

Jesus! says Belle.

Stage 21: Houilles to Paris Champs-Elysées - IT'S OVER!

A flat stage in more ways than one.

The Tour winner is already decided.

But you can still win the stage. At least, so Alex Kristoff is thinking.

Team Condor has given up already.

They are drinking champagne.

Team Philosophe rolls up gently beside them.

Champagne already? says Gaius.

Want some? asks Sweezus, waving the bottle.

Not yet, says Gaius. Perhaps Humboldt?

Ach... why not? says Humboldt. The Tour is practically over. And I must say, I've done rather well.

You have, says David. A remarkable achievement, for someone who hadn't ridden a bike until a month ago.

Hear hear, says Gaius. You are a force of nature. Never mind what Vello says.

Vello refused to see the big picture, says Humboldt.

What's this? asks Pablo?

Humboldt encouraged Arnaud Démare after he'd been bad-mouthed by Greipel, says David. Stage eighteen. And then Démare won it. Vello was peeved.

Pablo laughs. How could it possibly matter? Stage eighteen was so long ago....

Arthur is wobbling all over the road, for some reason.

Steady Arthur, says Gaius. The race isn't over yet.

I know, says Arthur, through a brain haze of champagne bubbles.

I was thinking of asking Humboldt to come with us to Weipa, says Gaius. Do you agree, Arthur?

Arthur doesn't understand how things can have proceeded this far.

You going to Weipa? asks Sweezus. You didn't say.

Uh, says Arthur. That's because I didn't know. Why Weipa?

Are you asking him or me? asks Humboldt.

Arthur doesn't need asking, says Gaius. He's my right hand man.

The right hand man suddenly remembers he has promised to do something with Pablo and Sweezus.

Sorry, says Arthur. Can't go.

So you're asking me, says Humboldt. I must say you've asked in a roundabout fashion.

I haven't asked you, says Gaius. I'm about to ask you. You will be excited when I tell you the reason.

I hope so, says Humboldt, taking a fourth swig of champagne.

He doesn't care what the reason is really. He will go to Weipa with Gaius. Especially if Arthur's not going.

A new snake has been discovered in Weipa, says Gaius. A bandy-bandy. It is different from all other known species of bandy bandy.

Ein neue Schlange! marvels Humboldt.

Schlange? says Gaius.

Snake, says Humboldt. Sorry, I just got excited.

I take it you're coming? says Gaius.

Of course he is, says David. Now let's pull ourselves together and make a good showing. We're almost in Paris.

They are.

Now all that remains is to complete eight laps of the circuit and the Tour will be...

OVER!

Time Trials: Saint Pée-sur-Nivelle to Espelette - Pée to Oui!

The individual time trials.

A short course but tricky.

Terence is watching the riders. No one's watching Terence.

He goes up to a stranger.

Where are we? asks Terence.

Saint Pée-sur-Nivelle, says the stranger.

Terence cackles rudely.

Luckily Saint Roley appears at that moment.

Don't mind him, says Saint Roley.

I have no idea why he's laughing, says the stranger.

Pée, says Saint Roley.

How do you know? asks Terence.

I know you, says Saint Roley. Anything with pee in it. Or wee, even.

You said wee! says Terence.

Only as an example, says Saint Roley

The stranger moves to a slightly different location.

Bang! The first rider goes down the Saint Pée ramp.

It's that American, Lawson Craddock.

It won't be worth watching till later.

Here comes Belle. See! She's not even looking.

Come on guys, we're going on a motorbike.

Yay! cries Terence.

Where to? asks Saint Roley.

Espelette, says Belle. It's where they finish, AND, it's the chili pepper capital of France.

So it is. And Vello is already at the finish, about to chomp on a chili.

He dangles it over his red and white-painted mouth.

Froggy is doing the same, but without the greasepaint.

The crowd goggles. They look like really hot chilis. This could be funny.

Have any of the riders finished yet?

Some of them have, but not Thomas, not Dumoulin, not Roglic, not Froomey.

Yeow! Vello hops up and down yelling. His mouth is on fire!

Belle arrives on a motorbike with Terence.

Papa! What are you doing?

Water! cries Vello.

What's that? Did you say water? asks Belle.

She is not in a hurry to help him because of the greasepaint. Naughty papa!

Oui! says Vello, in French (Because he is French, and under pressure).

Hee hee, cackles Terence rudely.

Saint Roley flutters down. He has been timing Tom Dumoulin.

Dumoulin is going to win it! cries Saint Roley. But why are you laughing?

I came from Pée to Wee! exults Terence.

Some people in the crowd point towards the toilets.

Stage 19: Lourdes to Laruns - Fix

Three big climbs today.

The teams ride out of Lourdes, hoping for miracles.

Several Virgins stand at the side of the road.

Marie is the name of each one of them.

Don't let that confuse you.

Marie: I'm so sorry for Peter Sagan. He's battling horrid injuries and scratches after the fall.

Marie (a different one): Me too. He's so couragous.

Marie (a third one): I rather like the one coming last. That American.

Marie (the first one): He doesn't need a miracle. He's raising thousands every day.

Marie (another one): Oh come on girls! Let's choose a winner.

Marie (the different one): What about that guy?

Marie (another one): Yes! Lotto Jumbo! Hee hee!

Marie (the first one): Stop giggling. That's not his name. It's Primoz Roglic.

Marie (the third one): Are we going to give it to him then? It means Froomey gets dropped from the podium.

Marie (in a tiara): Lets do it!

Marie (in a blue dress): Stir things up a bit.

Marie (a sweet one): I'd like to give it to Sweezus.

Marie (a rather naughty one): We all would. But how would it look?

Collective sigh from the Maries.

Heuuuh!

They sigh over Sweezus and his hot team members Arthur Rimbaud and Pablo Neruda....

But no. Be fair, you Maries.

Of course they will be. They are lovely.

Today, the stage winner will be Primoz Roglic.

Sagan and that American will finish last and second last.

Froomey will drop off the podium (potentially).

Doumoulin will be furious and claim that Roglic used a motor bike slipstream.

But hey....Maries don't fix everything.

Stage 18: Tri-sur-Baïse to Pau - Pep Talk

Easy. Two minor climbs and a flat finish.

Vello encourages his team.

I'm feeling better, says Vello. I'm sure you'll be pleased to hear that.

But you're not in it, says David.

No, says Humboldt. Your condition is irrelevant.

Steady on, says Gaius. His improvement might well have its benefits.

Such as? asks David.

He might get rid of the clown suit, says Gaius. We've become a laughing stock due to Vello's comic appearance.

His INCREASINGLY comic appearance! says Humboldt.

True, says David. Vello, today we would like you to take off one item of clown suit. Just one. And another tomorrow.

This is MY pep talk! says Vello. You should listen to me!

All right, says Humboldt.

Fine, says David.

Go on, says Gaius. What should we do that we haven't already been doing?

Humboldt has been doing so well, I appoint him team leader, says Vello.

I'm honoured, says Humboldt. Who was team leader?

I was, says David.

I thought I was, says Gaius.

No one was, says Vello. Now Humboldt is. And you two must protect him.

Humboldt looks proud.

Later.

The race has been going for quite some time.

Arnaud Démare is still fuming.

How dare Andre Greipel say those untrue things!

That he held on to team car. As if! Greipel has since apologised. But still...

Démare pedals and broods.

Humboldt rides past him, slows down and draws level.

You look downcast, says Humboldt.

What do you care? asks Démare.

The earth is a great living organism, says Humboldt, of which you and I are a part. Today I'm team leader.

Good for you, says Démare. What team are you anyway?

Team Philosophe, says Humboldt. Our director is the one in the clown suit.

Ah yes, the one with the marvellous infant, says Démare. And his saintly bird, Saint Roley.

That is one description, says Humboldt. Not sure about the marvellous infant. He lacks talent in spelling. The bird I agree with.

I gave the infant a bird book, Les Oiseaux du Monde, says Démare. We all thought it so amusing that he can't tell a duck from a parrot.

I believe he is Spanish, says Humboldt. He fell off a cathedral in Barcelona.

But he is still a part of the same organism, says Démare, who has cheered up considerably during the conversation.

Of course, says Humboldt. Have you read my book Cosmos?

No, but I shall look out for it, says Démare. And I now feel inclined to forgive André Greipel and move on. Show the world a Frenchman can be a two-time stage winner.

You should bottle that confidence, says Humboldt.

Ha ha! laughs Arnaud Démare, heading off to the front of the organism.

Becoming in the process a two-time stage winner.

Humboldt is generally pleased with his efforts.

Vello, not quite so much.

Stage 17: Bagnères de Luchon to Saint-Lary-Soulan - Pathos

A short one with a grid start in GC order.

This could be decisive.

Chris Froome looks pensive, as well he might.

Bang. Off go the riders.

Terence tugs at Vello's baggy red trousers.

What? says Vello.

Look at my spelling, says Terence.

He opens the lunch box. The leg hairs spell POO.

That is naughty, says Vello.

Why? asks Terence. Sweezus is winning the poetry competition today.

Ha ha! laughs Froggy twirling his gnome hat. It says POEM!

I see, says Vello. POO is only half right. Take out the last O. You are not getting any better at spelling.

The hairs MOVED! says Terence.

But that's not what happened.

I would prefer to know who's going to win today's race, says Vello.

Probably the O, says Terence.

(Who can that be? Clue: The O could be an ending).

The riders ride hard. There are terrible gradients on the mountains, as well as the usual.

Sweezus, Arthur and Pablo are not even trying to win.

Uh-huh! Uh-huh! Uh-huh! That's them breathing. Their legs feel like spaghetti.

Sweezus tries to get in the zone.

There's something niggling him. Oh yeah. The poem.

Spit it out, says Arthur.

How'd you know? asks Sweezus.

Tom Dumoulin flashes past.

Ditto Rafal Majka, and Nairo Quintana.

I can read you like a book, says Arthur. You've got a poem, but you're too chicken to present it.

Go on, says Pablo. We won't laugh. We can hardly breathe anyway.

Sweezus screws up his courage on the Col de Portet.

Froomey is pedalling beside him.

Who cares? Let Froomey hear it.

In Memory Of A Dead Cuttlefish, says Sweezus.

Good title, says Pedro. We didn't do titles. You get extra points.

Sweezus is encouraged. He continues:

Blue-green blood ran through
His three hearts,
All of them broken.
I asked for his name.

O he was the Twitcher
We took him to Kas
Where an orange beloved
Lay glimmering under the sea
Unaware he was coming.

Dead is he.

Tears form in the eyes of Froomey.

He rides on, as he must.

That's incredibly good, says Arthur. Froomey is crying.

Yes, says Pablo. It's obvious you made it up out of little knowledge. And yet you have captured all the strangeness and the pathos.

Sweezus thinks they might be just saying these things. But it's heart-warming to hear them.

He is declared the winner.

Go the leg hairs!

And Nairo Quintana is first to top the Col de Portet.

Make what you will of it. But Nairo ends with which letter?

Stage 16: Carcassonne to Bagnères-de-Luchon - WINGS

A mountain stage after a rest day. What can go wrong?

The Teams ride out of Carcassonne and boof! into a hay barricade set up on the road by disgruntled farmers.

But no! The gendarmes are on it!

They spray tear gas at the incident. That will surely work, n'est ce pas?

The riders stop, cough, wash their eyes with bottled water, and get back on their bikes.

Did you have your eyes shut? asks Sweezus.

Not just then, says Arthur. His eyes are still streaming.

You should've, says Sweezus. Hey...? Is that the sabre you picked up yesterday?

Yes, says Arthur. I'm going to slice the top off a bidon, next time I get one.

Probably illegal, says Sweezus. Put it away.

Arthur shoves it further into his jersey.

They ride past Vello who is talking to Froggy Fréron.

He is wearing one extra item of clown suit. Baggy trousers.

Your daughter allowed it? asks Froggy.

She no longer has any say in the matter, says Vello. She has made me do everything. Why do I have to look after Terence when she could so easily do it.....

Where is he? asks Froggy.

I don't know, says Vello. Correction, I do. I set him to practise his spelling, in Carcassonne.

Ah yes, says Froggy. I noticed yesterday at the picnic, he got his letters all wrong. How will he get to the finish?

When he can spell everything I ask him, says Vello.

I mean the finish in Bagnères-de-Luchon, says Froggy.

Belle will go back for him, says Vello.

All the riders ask themselves the same question.

Except Gaius.  He asks himself a different question.

What to do when the Tour is over? There are so many options. A new Peacock spider has been identified in Western Australia. And what about the white-winged Flufftail? A new breeding site has been found.....

Further ahead, a breakaway is forming.

Team Condor is not in it.

Arthur is approaching the feed zone.

Belle holds out a musette.

Arthur whips out his sabre.

Belle glares at Arthur. She does not have to feed him. It is only the goodness of her heart that allows it.

So Arthur gets nothing. Not even a bidon.

He puts his sabre away.

Fast forward.

No, first, fast backward.

Terence is labouring over his spelling in Carcassonne.

SWEZUS IS WINGING

Saint Roley doesn't think it looks right.

Now fast forward.

Philippe Gilbert looks like he has a good chance of WINGING.

He is in front, descending the Portet d'Aspet.

When SKID! BOING! FLIP! he goes over a wall on a corner and falls down a ravine.

This means that Julian Alaphillipe has a good chance of WINGING.

But no Adam Yates is now WINGING, leading 6.5k from the finish, but CRASH!

He is off, and Alaphillipe is WINGING.

He finishes alone, loved by the French people.

Rest Day: Carcassonne - Only The Bravest

The Team Philosophe picnic.

Team Condor is invited. So is Froggy Fréron.

Belle has chosen a sunny spot on a grassed slope below Le Cité.

She spreads out a cloth, she opens the hamper.

A rich scent of cassoulet wafts out.

It better not be a BIRD in that stinky old stew pot, says Terence.

It's mainly haricot beans, says Belle, with some pork and a tiny bit of ... duck-like substance.

Terence stomps off down the slope to a tree.

What's a duck-like substance? Probably a parrot. Belle's tricky.

I'll have some, my dear, says Vello. How about you Froggy?

Yes, thank you, says Froggy Fréron.

How's the poetry competition? asks David. Who's winning?

I'm still working on mine, says Sweezus. What's a good name for a cuttlefish?

Twitcher, says Gaius. I suggest it because we once knew a Twitcher. Remember him, Arthur?

Yes, says Arthur. I remember the Twitcher. We took him to Kas to meet his red and orange beloved, and he died there.

Cool, says Sweezus. That's kind of inspiring. What's to drink, Belle?

Champagne, says Belle. Or a lovely red Fitou. Or a Chateau de Donjon Rosé.

Champagne, says Sweezus.

Let's all have it, says Vello. I'll take the top off.

He tries.

In the old days, says David, Napoleon's soldiers used to slice off the tops with their sabres.

So they did, says Vello. Up the side to the lip and whack!. Glass everywhere. You couldn't drink it.

You can buy champagne sabres in the shop where I bought our picnic, says Belle. Fromagerie la Ferme. It's a treasure trove.

Arthur resolves to go there. He heads off straight away.

Belle takes more food from the hamper. Local charcuterie, fromages, bleus et frais. Prawns in garlic. Beef stuffed with cheese and peppers.

Vello pops the cork from the bottle.

Cheers! says David. In victory one deserves it, in defeat one needs it. Napoleon again.

How's your team going? asks Vello, pouring champagne for Fréron.

Not bad, Bardet's in fifth position, Latour's in fourteenth, replies Froggy.

Any....um.......jitters? asks Vello. You know, the rumours....

Not at all, says Froggy Fréron. What rumours?

That the race is.... already decided, says Vello.

Well it is, in one sense, says Froggy Fréron.

A curly one, says David. Is it or isn't it?

Try this Sardine La Paimpolaise, says Belle.

I shall, says David, dipping a finger. Mmm, this is delightful!

Terence returns, very slowly. Are there any red drinks?

Black currant for you, says Belle.

I know who's winning, says Terence.

Do you? says Belle.

Yes, says Terence. I finally sorted the leg hairs from the sea salt. See! Look who's winning.

He carefully opens the lunch box.

Everyone gazes in.

The leg hairs are disposed on a bed of sea salt to spell  W E Z Z E S.

Hey little buddy! says Sweezus. Is that me?

Yes, says Terence. You're the only one who likes me, and doesn't eat birds.

Sweezus is touched, Terence wants him to win something. And believes that he doesn't eat birds.

He will try and win something.

What was the name of that cuttlefish?

Arthur returns from Fromagerie La Ferme with a champagne sabre, in a knife box.

Any more champagne? asks Arthur.

Yes, says Belle. Did you pay for that sabre? They're really expensive.

This one wasn't, says Arthur.

Swoosh! Smash! Arthur slices the top off the bottle. Glass shards scatter everywhere.

Who's for more champers?

Only the bravest will drink it.

Stage 15: Millau to Carcassonne - Upping the Ante

A lumpy stage though the vineyards of Minervois, Corbières and Cabardes.

Some riders passing Team Condor slow down.

They wish to know how the poetry competition is going.

It seems it was not the easiest topic, the cuttlefish.

Arthur has come up with something:

A terrible scent
And dark swirling water
Luminescent flashes subsiding
Final drops fall to the sea.
Just one flaccid cuttlefish remains
In the stolen death box

Lilian Calmejane passes.

He catches the words subsiding and final and flaccid.

He hopes they are not a bad omen.

(They are. But not that bad. He will finish seventh, outridden by six other chasers who unlike him had team mates in the group to support them. Cort Nielsen for example, winning. Ion Izagirre, coming second. Bauke Mollema third. Just shows you).

That's cool, bro, says Sweezus. It's got, like...... immediacy.

Based on a true story, says Arthur

Bravo, Arthur, says Pablo.

Finished yours yet? asks Sweezus.

Working on it, says Pablo. This is it so far:

Not for you nor I, Marilyn
the way of the cuttlefish
I have not the specialised tentacles
to insert sperm sacs into an opening
near to your mouth
nor the patience to watch you
lay eggs a few hours later
but your sequined swimsuit
your golden hair flowing
the white rubber tyre
in which you float
encircled, undulating,
make me desirous
of a maritime connection.

Awesome, says Sweezus.

Winner, says Arthur.

Not yet, says Pablo. Sweezus must give us his poem.

Later, says Sweezus. You guys have upped the ante. Anyhow, we'd better get moving.

They get moving, and finish in creditable positions.

Stage 14: Saint-Paul-Trois-Châteaux to Mende - Realism

Today the stage ends in Mende.

This is where several Spanish riders have previously triumphed.

So Omar Fraile, who is Spanish, is trying hard today.

He rides past Team Philosophe.

He has no time to hear what they are saying.

But we do.

David: It was bit rich of Vello.

Humboldt: Yes, don't take it to heart.

Gaius: It's not as though I raced any slower.

David: Except that one time.

Gaius: And that was not my fault. However, he is the Team Director, and I am not reading the bird book while riding today. More's the pity.

Humboldt: I'm sure it was interesting.

Gaius: Indeed. Birds have enormous brains relative to their size, rather like humans, and display similar behaviours.

David: Ha ha! Do they go in for ridiculous races?

Gaius: No doubt. They also know how to deceive and manipulate. Eavesdrop. Give gifts...

Humboldt: Well, well. Not all birds surely. Not Saint Roley.

Gaius: A notable exception. But birds have excellent qualities too. They display a sense of fairness.

David: I wonder how they do that?

Gaius: I'm not up to that chapter. And never will be until this Tour is over.

Humboldt: What about reading in bed at night?

Gaius: Far too tired.

(Well, that's realistic).

Omar Fraile is now way ahead, passing Team Condor.

Too fast to hear what they are saying.

But we can.

Sweezus: No point trying too hard today. Look at that Spanish guy! Just try and make the cut-off.

Arthur: Okay.

Pablo: Poetry competition?

Sweezus: Yeah, but I get to choose the subject.

Pablo: Why?

Sweezus: Because you guys are poets and I'm a creative.

Pablo: That's fair.

Sweezus: Cuttlefish.

Arthur: Ugh.

Pablo: No, we must now attempt it.

They ride on, visualising cuttlefish.

Omar Fraile is passing Team Sky.

Too fast to hear what anyone is saying.

But Team Sky is also going too fast for anyone to hear what they are saying.

Probably something about who is really the captain, Thomas or Froomey.

Anyhow, this is a day for the Spanish, and Fraile in particular.

He is the winner.

Olé!

Stage 13: Bourg d'Oisans to Valance - Hidden Lives

Team Philosophe rides out of Bourg d'Oisans.

Humboldt and David are close behind Gaius.

Humboldt sniffs the air.

Do you smell fish glue? asks Humboldt.

It's Gaius, says David. Last night he mended Terence's bird book. 

Then why does he smell of fish glue this morning? asks Humboldt.

Ask him, says David.

Humboldt speeds up to ride level with Gaius.

It is now that he sees Gaius has a book propped up on the handlebars before him.

He is reading a bird book.

I say, says Humboldt, isn't that rather risky?

Couldn't put it down, says Gaius. 

I thought it was a just child's book, says Humboldt.

Not this one. says Gaius. Terence has that. This is The Genius of Birds. 

Then why does it smell of fish glue? asks Humboldt.

Does it? says Gaius, slowing down.

Don't slow down! yells David.

Alex Kristoff and Peter Sagan speed past Team Philosophe.

I didn't mean you, mutters David.

Did you see that? asks Alex Kristoff.

Yes, says Peter Sagan. He was reading a bird book. It was the one I gave to the little guy, Terence.

I gave him one too, says Kristoff. It was The Hidden Lives of Owls.

Good choice, says Sagan. Everyone should learn about owls.

That's what I thought, says Kristoff.

But all birds show genius, says Sagan. Did you know that Clark's Nutcracker can hide up to 30,00 seeds over a wide area and find them months later?

No kidding? says Kristoff, trying to remember an equivalent fact about owls.

They have now caught up to Michael Schär, the last breakaway rider, and must concentrate on their riding.

In the streets of Valance.

Teams Lotto Jumbo, Trek-Segafredo and Bora-Hansgrohe take the lead in quick succession.

Groupama FDJ moves to the front.

Arnaud Démare leads with one k to go.

And is overtaken, YES! by Sagan and Kristoff!

Note to Gaius: This proves that there is a time for bird books and a time to put bird books aside.

Stage 12: Bourg-Saint-Maurice to Alpe d'Huez - Watch it!

Man! That was hairy! says Sweezus.

The crowds were so crazy, says Pablo. Especially the Dutch.

Corner seven, says Arthur. Dutch corner.

Did you see Froomey get whacked in the back? asks Sweezus.

No, had my eyes shut, says Arthur.

Again? says Sweezus. How come?

Arthur is crazy like the Dutch, says Pablo.

I felt it, says Arthur. All my other senses were heightened. I even heard Terence, above all the noise.

Yeah you did, says Sweezus. He was standing there waving one of his bird books.

He was trying to get your attention, says Pablo.

I know, says Sweezus. But you don't stop on Alpe d'Huez.

If you're lucky enough to get there, says Pablo. Many have already abandoned.

Not from Team Sky, says Sweezus. Those robotic buggers.

Terence runs up with the bird book in question.

Yay! says Terence. This is my favourite bird book!

That one? says Pablo. But you had so many grown up ones to choose from. That is for babies.

What is Terence's favourite bird book. Let's see it

 Hello World Birds. On the cover a pigeon, an owl and a toucan, and the heads of a goose and a flamingo. Smiling from branches or under a tree.

What about Les Oiseaux du Monde? says Pablo. That one was so comprehensive. What about The Genius of Birds?

This one is my favourite, says Terence. One of the Dutch people borrowed it and threw it onto the road. Then a policeman gave it back to me. And he said: Watch it!

Is that the mark of a good bird book? asks Pablo.

Yes, see? says Terence, tracing faint tyre mark across the cover, with his claw finger.

His blood brother's claw.

Now you've scratched a rut in the cardboard, says Arthur.

Wah! says Terence.

Gaius'll fix it, says Sweezus. With his fish glue.

Terence runs off to find Gaius.

....

Okay but what about telling us who was the winner today?

Does anyone care really?

No. Thought not.

Stage 11: Albertville to La Rosière - Determined

Today will be different. Things could get nasty.

Team Condor is just one example.

Gruelling climbs, says Sweezus. Could be brutal. What do you reckon, Arthur?

All the same to me, says Arthur. Did you see me on the cobbles?

Yeah I did, says Sweezus. You crazy nong.

What we should do, says Pablo, is keep our eyes open.

What we should do, says Arthur, is eliminate Team Sky.

In your dreams, says Sweezus. Mine too. How exactly?

What if, says Arthur, I lead them over a precipice?

They're not that gullible, says Sweezus.

But he can see it in his mind's eye. Team Sky, going over a precipice, breaking bones on the way, while Arthur, naturally, remains undamaged.

Awesome.

Team Philosophe is negotiating with their Team Director.

I might take a back seat today, says David.

No, you won't, says Vello. I want you to ramp up the chaos.

Ramp it up? says David. We haven't caused any chaos.

Well, get onto it, says Vello. You can start by looking determined.

I can do that, says Gaius.

That's your normal face, says David. As for me, I'm not determined.

Very funny. You, Humboldt? says Vello.

Nor am I, says Humboldt.

Then stay behind Gaius, says Vello.

Chris Froome wheels by, with a parcel.

This is for your kid, says Chris Froome. And good luck in the mountains.

What is it? asks Vello.

A bird book, says Froomey. So he can learn the difference between a duck and a parrot.

How kind, says Gaius. Good luck today.

Froomey glides off.

You fool, Gaius, says Vello. If I believed in good luck, I'd be angry.

Saint Roley flies down from up the road somewhere.

Terence has been inundated with presents, says Saint Roley. He wants you to hold them.

Vello stomps off, with the parcel containing the bird book.

Presents!

Terence is in the midst of a crowd.

They are hi-fiving him, and giving him presents.

All of them bird books.

Vello takes the bird books and looks for a motor bike to take him to the finish.

The finish.

Mikel Nieve is coming.

Tom Dumoulin is coming.

Where is Team Sky?

Oh no, Arthur has led them over a precipice. There they lie with wheels spinning and legs in the air, a few minor bones broken.

Arthur scrambles back up the road, where he meets the devil running with his red pitchfork......

No? Is that wrong? It was only Arthur? And here come Geraint Thomas and Chris Froome, cranking the speed up.

Woosh! Geraint Thomas overtakes Mikel Nieve in the last hundred metres.

Tom Dumoulin comes second.

Froomey comes third.

Maybe he deserves it.

He was nice to give Terence a bird book.

Stage 10: Annecy to Le Grand-Bornand - Control

Before the race:

David: I ate too much at yesterday's picnic.

Vello: I saw.

Gaius: You'll work it off today, David.

Humboldt: Five big climbs. What is our race plan?

Vello: You won't need a  race plan. I guarantee the other teams will be in disarray.

David: You surely don't think your dropping of dark hints yesterday will make any difference?

Vello: Froggy went straight back to blab to his team.

Gaius: About you know what? None of us knew what that was. So he couldn't.

Vello: Trust me. I know how these things work.

Sure enough, some of the teams are discussing what happened at Team Philosophe's picnic.

Team Sky for example.

Geraint Thomas: And the little guy Terence, came back asking for chicken. And turns out he wanted to feed it to the swans. But he thought they were ducks. And there wasn't any chicken.

Chris Froome: No chicken?

Geraint Thomas: Ha ha, no, it was pigeon.

Wout Poels: Ducks don't eat chicken.

Geraint Thomas: It wasn't chicken. And they weren't ducks. But the funny thing was....

Froome: Guys, come on. What's our race plan?

Geraint Thomas: Stay at the front, control the pace and and make sure the day's disappointing.

So we see that as far as Team Sky is concerned, Vello's plan has been undermined by Terence.

What about Team AG2R-La Mondiale?

Froggy is their spy.

Here they are, talking.

Not before the race, but during.

Romain Bardet: Does anyone get why the kid thought a duck was a parrot?

Tony Gallopin: No, he thought pigeons were parrots.

Romain Bardet: But they're nothing like them.

Oliver Naesen: Irrelevant. The only real birds in the story were swans. The pigeon was part of the picnic.

Romain Bardet: Invited?

Tony Gallopin: No, on the menu.

Vello will have to do better.

And Froggy is an incompetent spy.

But what is happening, race-wise?

Team Sky are succeeding in making the day disappointing. By preventing attacks and by Froomey not crashing.

Julian Alaphilippe of Team Quick-Step Floors has gone solo up the col de la Columbiere, and never looked back, increasing his lead on the final descent.

No doubt thinking of swans.

Annecy: Rest Day - Second Realities

The teams are in Annecy, having flown there, and missed the World Cup final.

But we all know who won it.

Belle has organised a picnic for Team Philosophe. Team Condor is invited.

Vello has asked Froggy Fréron.

The picnic will be on the Ile des Cygnes. Swans, grass, trees, paths, benches, a lake view.

While Belle sets up the picnic, Terence goes down to the edge of the lake with Saint Roley, to look at the swans.

Gaius arrives, with David and Humboldt.

Sit down guys, says Belle. Taste this. The vermouth of the region is famous.

She pours three glasses of Vermouth de Chambéry.

Sweezus, Arthur and Pablo rock up next.

What's to eat at this picnic?

Pigeon, says Belle. But don't tell Terence. And local fish doused with lime. Then there's crepes filled with foie gras, port and cider onions, and farçon Savoyard, which is ham-wrapped potato cake, and a Basque-style black pudding.

Sounds rather rich, says Humboldt. Any vegetables?

Sweet peppers and asparagus, says Belle. More vermouth anyone? I wonder where papa has got to?

Sorry we're late, says Vello. Froggy wasn't sure he'd be welcome.

Of course he's welcome, says Belle. Why wouldn't he be?

His views, says Vello.

I shall not air my views at this picnic, says Froggy Fréron.

Air them by all means, says David. I like a good airing.

Belle hands out the plates, and everyone loads up with rich chunks and morsels.

I'll go and see what Terence is up to, says Pablo.

Isn't Pablo nice, says Belle. Anyone for a sparkling?

She opens a bottle of Vin de Savoie, Les Rocailles.

Ah, memories, says Vello. Very pleasant.

Soon the philosophers are at it.

What are memories?

Froggy and Humboldt are on the same side.

Memories are second realities, says Froggy.

Hear hear, says Humboldt.

Nonsense, says David. Can you prove it?

We don't need to prove it, says Froggy. We know it instinctively.

I remember stuff wrong though, says Sweezus. Like when I rescued Farky.

What do you remember wrong? asks Belle.

Farky reckons he rescued himself, says Sweezus.

Maybe that's Farky's reality, says Belle.

Or he's wrong, says Arthur.

Pablo comes back with Terence and Saint Roley.

Can I have some chicken? asks Terence.

It's not chicken, it's pigeon, says David.

Pigeon! shouts Terence! Pigeon is parrot! I can't give parrot to a duck!

They're not ducks, says Pablo. They're swans, remember.

They look like ducks, says Terence. And THAT looks like chicken.

You've forgotten what they look like, says Belle.

Proving our point, says Froggy.

Enough, says Vello. You win, Froggy. Now team, no mentioning you know what.

He winks dramatically, hoping Froggy will notice.

No one in Team Philosophe knows what you know what is.

It is therefore unlikely that anyone will mention it.

But not impossible.

Belle opens a second small hamper, revealing a beautiful cake.

A dark chocolate cake, with passionfruit foam.

.......

Down at the lake, the swans wait in vain for their chicken.

Stage 9: Arras to Roubaix - Cats

The day of fifteen cobbled sections.

Think positive.

Vello gives Team Philosophe a pep talk.

Don't hold the handlebars too tight. Sit light in the saddle. David, why are you smirking?

No reason, says David.

Ha ha! laughs Humboldt. No reason. Do you get it?

No, I don't get it, says Vello.

Ask your friend Froggy Fréron, says David. Ask him why reason's flown out of the window.

This is nothing to do with philosophy, says Vello. It's about sowing distrust. It's best you know nothing.

I see you are wearing clown shoes this morning, says Gaius. Is it because of the cobbles?

Don't you start, says Vello.

But they must ignore this instruction, because the race is starting.

No cobbles yet. A fine morning. An early start because of the World Cup Final.

The wind blows gently.

Ten kilometres out from the start, Sweezus rides past an accident.

Shit! Was that Richie?

He can't stop to find out.

Arthur rides past the accident shortly after.

He is riding with his eyes shut, to see if he can.

Later, on the cobbles, he plans to do it. Eyes shut. Thud thud thud sting sting vibration vibration. Trust to luck to stay upright. Test his charmed life.

So Arthur doesn't see Richie.

Richie Porte has broken a collar bone, and riding over cobbles is no longer an option. Richie sits at the side of the road, thinking nine is an unlucky number.

Pablo rides past. Stops beside Richie.

Bad luck, Richie, says Pablo.

Thanks, says Richie. Stage nine again. Looks like nine's my unlucky number.

Pablo feels sorry for Richie. He comes up with a poem.

Do not hate nine forever
For nine is the number of cats
Hate nine only for this moment
Nine will embrace you again
Have a speedy recovery.

That was nice of Pablo, thinks Richie. Poets rock. While I'm recovering I shall work hard on my poem about the potato.

Scent of lemon
Flesh salty
Top note of walnut
Fluffy with butter
And dots of black pepper.

Here we must leave Richie Porte, with his promising poem.

Other positive thinkers are having bad days.

Romain Bardet for example has had three flat tyres in succession.

Crashes affect Michel Landa and Rigoberto Uran.

But Chris Froome, who also crashes, is unaffected.

And some have good days.

Arthur Rimbaud has remained in a vibrating trance with his eyes shut throughout the cobbles and come out unscathed, (although admittedly, not advancing in the general classification).

While John Degenkolb, of Trek-Segafredo, is today's stage winner.

Stage 8: Dreux to Amiens - Different

Before the race.

Humboldt is talking to Belle.

While we all love the mini potatoes, they are not very filling, says Humboldt.

No more potatoes, says Belle. Today it's leek flan and baked apple in pastry.

Excellent, says Humboldt. And one more thing. Your father.

That frilled collar, says Belle. No need to tell me, I know. I told him no clown costume.

It's only a collar, says Humboldt. Quite romantic.

It's not like him, says Belle. A funny wig I could understand.

Of course, says Humboldt. Perhaps he has too little to do.

He has to mind Terence, says Belle. And he's made friends with Elie Fréron.

I can't help thinking I know Elie Fréron, says Humboldt.

Some Counter-Enlightenment guy, says Belle. You'd think they'd be enemies.

Different times call for different measures, says Humboldt.

How true.

Today is another flat one.

(Which is not different).

There are two categorical climbs.

(Which are).

It is the last chance for the sprinters in this part of the country.

Different measures are planned.

Team Condor for example.

Sweezus: Anyone for a chocolate?

Arthur: Me

Pablo Neruda: Is it dark chocolate?

Sweezus: Yeah. Half are dark chocolate and half are milk chocolate.

Pablo Neruda: I'll have a dark one.

So we see that Team Condor's different measures are dark and milk chocolate.

The race unfolds through flat green and yellow countryside brightened by sunshades and flags, and the occasional pointy roofed chateau.

There are mutterings of plans.

Peter Sagan is determined to keep out of trouble.

Andre Greipel and Fernando Gaviria are not.

Their minds are at the finish.

They will win today no matter what.

Vello is at the finish with Froggy Fréron. They are both munching baked apples in pastry.

O bliss, says Froggy Fréron. Crusted sugar.

He wipes his fingers on his green gnome hat.

Crumbs fall into Terence's lunch box.

Fat-head! says Terence.

Hush, says Saint Roley. Don't call him a fat-head. I'll get the crumbs out.

He pecks at the sugary crumbs.

The crowd is expectant. But they do not expect something different.

Here come the sprinters. Greipel, Gaviria, Sagan, Groenwegen, at the gallop.

But now! What is happening? A jostle?

Groenwegen takes advantage of the jostle and surges forward to win for the second time running.

Go him.

Greipel and Gaviria are disqualified for jostling, and do not come second.

Peter Sagan who stayed out of trouble comes second.

But he is not fond of this method.

Stage 7: Fougères to Chartres - Empathy

The longest stage of the Tour.

Flat mainly but peppered with climbs.

Sweezus is complaining.

I'll never get King of the Mountain, says Sweezus.

Look on the bright side, says Pablo Neruda.

Don't say it, says Arthur.

Say what? says Sweezus. Say it.

It's a comical jersey, says Pablo. Red polka dots.

Yeah, says Sweezus. I'd wear it.

He would, says Arthur. He wouldn't care.

If I were the King of the Mountain, says Pablo Neruda,

I would wear what I wanted
I would not be spotted

I would stop at the top and survey
The clowns and the laggers
My subjects.

After that, decide on a special treat
I would have for my dinner.

Mini potatoes with caviar
brought to me by Jackie Kennedy
wearing a pill box
and earrings of gold.

Sweezus laughs so much he wobbles.

Cross winds split the peloton.

Damn! says David. Oh well.

Are we resigned to this? asks Humboldt.

No, says Gaius. We must work our way back.

Crackle crackle.

I'm getting a message from Vello, says David. He's saying: Work your way back.

Gaius just said that, says Humboldt.

I know, says David. But Vello has little to do.

In a way it's a pity that Belle forbade him to wear a clown costume, says Gaius.

He was rummaging around in his suitcase this morning, says David.

He wouldn't dare, says Gaius.

O wouldn't he, says David.

They reach the feeding zone, and there stands Vello, in a frilled collar, holding out their musettes.

I hope it's not potatoes again, says Gaius.

He was wearing a frilled collar, says David. Did you see?

It IS potatoes, says Humboldt. Perhaps we should mention it to Belle.

A frilled collar, says David. What is he thinking?

They resolve to talk to Belle, after the finish.

Back at the feed zone, Vello has made a truce of sorts with Froggy Fréron.

What do you think? asks Vello.

Subtle, says Froggy Fréron. Clownish but romantic.

That's the look I was going for, says Vello. You and I should team up.

Me too, says Terence. Can I have a collar?

You had a hat, says Vello. Where is it?

Wah! cries Terence. I lost it. It had ear wasps!

Just then Saint Roley appears with the hat in his beak.

These pesky cross winds! says Saint Roley.

You said goodbye! says Terence. I thought I'd never see you.

I thought you might think you'd never see me, says Saint Roley. When I was in Saint Malo thinking of my lost brother, I thought of you thinking just that.

Empathy, says Froggy Fréron. I'm all for it.

So am I, as a matter of fact, says Vello.

But time is getting away from us. Who is winning?

Oh.

Someone we don't often hear of. Dylan Groenewegen, from Lotto Jumbo.

And he has beaten Fernando Gaviria and Peter Sagan.

That's nice.

Stage 6: Brest to Mûr de Bretagne - Eleven

A perfect stage for attackers.

Ending at the top of the short steep Mûr de Bretagne.

But not yet.

Vello stands at the side of the road on a flat bit.

Terence is beside him, on the grass, sorting leg hairs from grains of dried Sea Salt.

Vello watches the teams ride by, absently.

He is thinking of Elie Fréron.

Back there in Quimper. What a clown he was.

Until Elie Fréron hops out of an AG2R team car, which has stopped for some reason.

Greetings! says Elie Fréron.

He is still wearing the clown suit.

It's Froggy. Terence is not alarmed.

Curses! says Vello. I thought you were a native of Quimper!

One needn't remain in Quimper, says Elie Fréron.

That's a fact, says Vello. I'm surprised at you. Facts generally escape you.

Pshaw! says Elie Fréron. How's your team doing? I see you have a German.

What's it to you? asks Vello.

Nothing, says Elie. Just making conversation.

He steps back, knocking over the lunch box.

Bum-hole! You wrecked it! cries Terence. I had all the leg hairs on that side. Now look!

Sorry, young person, it's these awkward long clown shoes, says Elie Fréron.

He moves aside, and looks down at the leg hairs which now lie parallel.

Remarkable, says Vello. Either that is significant, or you have mucked up the readings.

So! says Elie. You DO believe in future knowing. Now I'm surprised at you!

Idiot! hisses Vello.

He does not like to be teased by a scion of the Counter Enlightenment.

How does it work, just out of interest? asks Elie.

Vello refuses to answer.

Richie Porte thunders by.

Eleven, says Terence.

And how did you come by that answer, young man?

Two ones, says Terence. And two more ones and two more ones.

Elie finds this encouraging.

The child is not fluent in maths. Presumably it is Vello's infant. Ha ha. So the mighty are fallen.

When will you be returning to Quimper? asks Vello.

Not until the Tour ends, says Elie. I've signed on to AG2R as team clown. A French team.

Vello grinds his teeth.

This could be most annoying. Unless he's a spy. Then he might well be useful.

He grins at Froggy Fréron.

But that's enough time wasted.

Let's go to the top of Mûr de Bretagne to see what is happening and if it conforms to the leg hair predictions.

The winner: Dan Martin of UAE.

(does not conform)

Second: Pierre Latour of Ag2R La Mondiale

( possible, but unlikely)

Third: Alejandro Valverde of Movistar

(does not conform)

However.....

 Richie Porte has clawed his way up to 11th in the General Classification.

Eleven.

Terence said it, as Richie raced by.

It's not a thing to be sneezed at.

Stage 5: Lorient to Quimper - Froggy

This will be the toughest stage so far.

Five climbs to go up and down.

Peter Sagan is determined to win this.

And he knows that he will.

Yesterday he was given a mini potato by a team mate (who should remain nameless).

This morning he ate it for breakfast.

What's this? he had asked.

One of the mini potatoes of Team Philosophe, replied the teammate.

And what good will it do? asked Peter Sagan. I don't wish to eat it for no reason. Are Team Philosophe winning? I don't think so.

True, said the team mate, but the rumour goes round that they know who is going to be winning, and that person wins.

So Rafal, it will only be me if I know it will be me, says Peter Sagan.

(Yes, it was Rafal Majka. No harm in knowing).

Eat it, says Rafal. See if you know.

Peter Sagan eats the mini potato. It is not as good as it would have been yesterday at lunch time. But it is still a Bonnotte. Quite earthy and with a top note of walnut.

Now, says Rafal. Anything?

I know I shall win today, says Peter Sagan. I knew it anyway. Nevertheless, thanks for the potato.

No problem, says Rafal Majka.

Later:

Vello is standing at the finish, in Quimper.

Terence is beside him.

WAH-WAH-WAH! yells Terence.

What is it! cries Vello. Have you been stung?

A CLOWN! cries Terence.

Sure enough there is a clown standing near him.

I'll speak to him, says Vello.

He walks up to the clown. Stops, and turns purple.

YOU! cries Vello. What are YOU doing in Quimper?

I was born here, says the clown. What are YOU doing here, is the question!

I'm Team Director of Team Philosophe, says Vello.

Not Team Clown? asks the clown, nastily.

Yes, and Team Clown since you're asking, says Vello. I'm not wearing a costume.

What is a clown without a costume? asks the other clown.

A human, says Vello. Were it not for this infant beside me, I would wear one, and a better one than yours.

What's wrong with mine? asks the clown.

A green gnome hat and white pom pom, says Vello. A brown clown suit. The whole thing looks froggy.

Froggy, says Terence, feeling bolder because Vello knows the clown in the clown suit.

Belle appears, at this moment.

I'm here for the finish, says Belle.

Look who's here, says Vello. My old nemesis, Elie Fréron, the rude critic. Turns out he's from Quimper.

Nothing wrong with coming from Quimper! says Elie Fréron.

He looks like a frog, says Terence. I'm not scared of frogs am I?

No, says Belle. You're not scared of frogs. But you shouldn't say he looks.......

Hurrah!

The crowd erupts with great cheering.

Peter Sagan, who knew he would win today, is winning.

Sonny Colbrelli, who thought he knew the same thing, is not.

Stage 4: La Baule to Sarzeau - Ditch

Another flat day. Perhaps a bit windy.

The teams ride out of La Baule, each with their plan.

Team Philosophe's plan is straightforward.

Talk loudly about mini potatoes when passing another rider.

Vello came up with this plan.

The night before, he caught someone prowling near his folded-up jumper.

Someone from Team Sky, he suspects.

Let's see how his plan is working.

Near the back of the main peloton:

David: I like Vello's plan. It means we can stay at the back here.

Humboldt: Is that in the spirit of the plan?

Gaius: I'm sure David didn't mean we would remain in this position.

Humboldt: What did he mean then?

David: I meant that there are more riders ahead of us to put the wind up about the potatoes.

Gaius: That requires effort.

Humboldt: It does. The plan only works if the other riders think we're passing them because of the special potatoes. Our first task is to pass them. Shall I go out first?

David: Go ahead. Don't forget to be cagey.

Humboldt speeds up. He passes Mark Cavendish, who is in a ditch retrieving his radio.

Humboldt: To you I shall say nothing!

Cavendish: Piss off, whoever you are.

Humboldt: Ingrate.

He passes Chris Froome.

Humboldt: Geraint Thomas!

Chris Froome: I'm Chris Froome.

Humboldt: Sorry. I'm new at this. Just passing you rapidly, thanks to eating .....ahem... probably shouldn't tell you...

Chris Froome: Mini potatoes with their skins on. Don't think that's helped you. I just stopped for a nature break.

Humboldt: Would you mind not telling anyone?

Chris Froome: About what? Hey! Is this part of your plan?

Humboldt: Would we be so cunning?

Froome zooms off to rejoin his team mates.

Humboldt has done all he can.

Vello waits at the feeding station, with Terence and Belle.

The potatoes are under his jumper.

Give me a few, says Belle. I want them for the musettes.

Cooked, are they? asks Vello.

Course they are, says Belle. Steamed fresh this morning. And there's duck rillettes to go with them.

Sweezus arrives at the feeding station. Grabs his musette.

Terence cheers, waving the lunch box, holding it tight.

Arthur and Pablo grab their musettes and keep riding.

Potatoes and duck rillettes. Yum.

The finish:

A straight 4 km finish.

Fernando Gaviria of Quickstep Floors beats Sagan and Greipel.

I neglected to mention that plan.

Stage 3: Cholet -Team Time Trials - Mangled

Before the start, there are rumours.

Team Philosophe has a secret weapon.

Geraint Thomas: It's something in a lunch box, that kid's got.

Chris Froome: Something like what?

Geraint Thomas: Dunno. Someone said....mini potatoes?

Chris Froome: Nah. I've tried those mini potatoes.

Geraint Thomas: How were they?

Chris Froome: Euh....I'm no foodie.

Geraint Thomas: Go on, try.

Chris Froome: You eat them with the skins on.

Geraint Thomas: Earthy?

Chris Froome: Yep. That's exactly right. But it's not the potatoes.

Richie Porte (passing): It's actually sea salt.

Chris Froome: Yes, I guess they were salty. Have you tried them?

Richie Porte: No! The secret weapon. It's Sea Salt. Everyone knows that.

He heads off, towards the warm up room.

Chris Froome: I wouldn't believe anything Porte says.

Geraint Thomas: I know. He was seen heads together with Pablo Neruda.

Chris Froome: Neruda. Don't know him. What team?

Geraint Thomas: Team Condor. All poets. Except for the captain.

Chris Froome: Hah! Sweezus. I'd never trust him.

The time trials begin. Team Michelton Scott rides out first.

Terence is watching, with Vello.

Yay! cries Terence, waving the lunch box.

Stop that! says Vello. You'll mess up the predictions.

Terence puts the lunch box down.

Belle comes by, with a bag (of potatoes).

A few heads turn. What's in the bag?

Give them here, says Vello. People are looking.

Belle gives him the potatoes. He stuffs them down the front of his jumper, which is stretchy.

Next team to start is Team Sky.

Chris Froome speeds past with the others.

From the corner of his eye he sees Vello, Team Director of Team Philosophe, stuff something down his jumper.

He resolves to investigate further, after the time trials.

Team BMC is on next. They line up.

There is Richie, at the far end.

Potatoes are far from his mind. Salt is closer.

What is the salt saying?

No one has told Richie about the leg hairs.

Greg van Avermaet has heard a rumour about leg hairs.

But they are Peter Sagan's. Today's yellow jersey.

And the rumour is wrong.

The truth is, and there is only one truth that matters....

The true truth, which is....

That the team that rides the fastest will win today's time trials.

Nevertheless we could look inside the lunch box.

It will be purely academic.

There it is on the ground in front of Terence.

Terence keeps kicking it.

Vello keeps telling him not to.

The Sea Salt and the leg hairs are sick if it. SICK OF IT!

We open the lunch box. Look inside.

Bs and Ms and Cs are so mangled together, only an expert could read them

Stage 2: Mouilleron to La Roche-sur-Yon - Full Bore

Before the race.

Vello is explaining something to David.

Vello: It was all in the disposition of the leg hairs.

David: I would have to have seen it.

Vello: I saw it. They spelled out his initials, F G.

David: I can understand F being spelt out in leg hairs, but G?

Vello: Some of them were curly.

Belle: Who'll win today then?

Vello: No idea. Terence has the hairs in a lunch box. Now, today, Team Philosophe, focus!

Gaius: Are you talking to me?

Humboldt: Or me?

Vello: All three of you. You did not ride full bore yesterday.

David: Gaius did. He told me everything there is to know about marsupial tree frogs.

Vello: Ha ha, yes very funny, full bore. I suppose at least you kept yourselves out of trouble. Go all out today. Belle has sourced some of those special potatoes.

Belle: Yes I have. They're still good although they were harvested in May. You'll find them in your musettes at the feeding station.

David: Good-o!

The race starts.

It is somewhat like yesterday.

Flat and typical.

Fields at the sides of the roads. Ditches. Yellow umbrellas. Families cheering in shorts.

Chavanel is out the front for ages and ages.

Way behind him, Richie Porte is trying to make up some time.

Pablo Neruda of Team Condor draws up beside him.

I hear you are writing a poem. Want some help?

No thanks, says Richie. Well yeah, on second thoughts, have you ever written a poem about any sort of vegetable?

Strictly speaking, no, says Pablo Neruda. But I did write an Ode to Tomatoes.

Long or short lines? asks Richie.

Short, says Pablo.

Thanks, mate, says Richie.

He speeds up, pedalling to a short line rhythm.

In a sack
Of potatoes
Rare tubers
Harvested in May

Tsgabu Grmay withdraws with abdominal pains.

Luis León Sánchez crashes.

Another crash involves Adam Yates.

Marcel Kittel gets a puncture.

Fernando Gaviria crashes 1.8 k from the finish.

Arnaud Démare gets a flat tyre.

The legs hairs in Terence's lunch box form the letters P S which could be a postscript.

Or Peter Sagan.

Stage 1: Noirmoutier to Fontenay - Tumble

Before the start.

Pablo Neruda rocks up.

Sorry, says Pablo. My dog died.

Yeah right, says Sweezus. We were gonna get new outfits. Lucky we didn't.

What would they have been like? asks Pablo.

Frog colours, says Arthur. With ovoid drink flaps.

Perhaps next year, says Pablo. How are you?

Good, says Sweezus. Been to Ecuador with Gaius. Saving the planet.

Excelente, says Pablo. I see Team Philosphe is without Vello.

Yeah, says Sweezus. They've got this new guy Humboldt. A German.

Is Belle here? asks Pablo.

Yeah, somewhere, says Sweezus. Looking for potatoes.

Richie's writing a poem about potatoes, says Arthur. La Bonotte round and squat. That's as far as he's got.

Ha ha, laughs Pablo. I know those potatoes. They are tiny.

Bang!

The race has started.

The Teams stream out of Noirmoutier in the sunshine.

The coast glistens. Boats and birds bob on the water. Helicopters buzz.

Team Sky have new colours.

What else is new. Nothing.

Vello is watching from the sidelines. He hates it.

Not only is he stuck in one place, he must mind Terence.

Wah! cries Terence, fairly often.

What is it this time? asks Vello.

The SAME THING! says Terence. They keep mixing together!

Where is Belle? wonders Vello. How hard can it be to find a few poxy potatoes?

Terence throws the lunch box onto the road.

The main peloton is coming, minding its business.

La la la.  Oh no. A tumble.

Richie Porte and Adam Yates are held up behind it, and lose time.

The lunch box! cries Terence. Arthur'll KILL me.

Leave it! says Vello.

With a KNIFE! cries Terence, imagining it happening

Vello waits until everyone has passed, and retrieves the lunch box.

He opens the lunch box.

The Sea Salt is in a jumble, but the leg hairs predict a win by a Fernando Gaviria, of Quickstep Floors.

Bold Potato Beginning

Team Philosophe and Team Condor are on the train to Noirmoutier-en-l'Ile.

An island, off the coast of Vendée.

Sweezus thinks he's seen Richie. He heads off down the train.

Richie Porte is one of the race favourites, says Belle to Humboldt.

I thought Froome was the favourite, says Humboldt.

It depends what you mean by favourite, says Belle. We all like Richie. He's a poet, like Arthur. Isn't he, Arthur?

No, says Arthur. Not like me. Not unless he's got better since last year.

I'm surprised to see him on a train, says Vello.

Maybe it isn't him, says David.

Ha ha, laughs Gaius, remembering the time they saw Richie in a hutong in China and it was Not-Richie, but then later, it was.

Who else is in Team Condor this year? asks David.

Pablo Neruda, says Arthur.

Where is he? asks Belle. Shouldn't you have met up by now?

Probably, says Arthur. I'd call him but my phone's out of battery.

Let me call him, says Belle.

Are there any snacks? asks Terence.

Raw carrot sticks,says Belle.

Will I like them? asks Terence.

Why don't you try them and see?

Terence tries them. They break into hard little carrot chunks and will not go down.

He spits them out crossly.

Here, says Arthur. I'll give you a task, if you stop whining.

The task is to separate the Sea Salt from the leg hairs in the lunch box.

Terence commences the task.

That was nice of you, Arthur, says Belle. Would you like a carrot stick?

No thanks, says Arthur.

Belle tries calling Pablo Neruda. No answer.

I'm looking forward to Noirmoutier, says David.

Why is that? asks Vello.

It's home to La Bonnotte, the most expensive potato in the world, says David. I'm keen to try them.

Excellent, says Vello. Carbs. You have my approval.

I don't need your  approval, says David.

You do, says Vello. I'm Team Director.

David keeps forgetting. This does not augur well for the future.

Nor does the non-show of Pablo Neruda.

Sweezus returns to say that it really was Richie.

What did you talk about? asks Arthur.

He's writing this poem about Noirmoutier potatoes, says Sweezus. He's in a concrete phase, he reckons.

Arthur wants to hear the poem. He moves up the train.

It's not finished, says Richie. I need to see an actual potato. But it starts off like this:

"La Bonnotte, round and squat"

What do you reckon?

Nice rhyme. A bold beginning, if you haven't seen one, says Arthur.

Tick And Treasure

Let us imagine that Sweezus, Arthur and Humboldt have cycled back to Guayaquil, where they have loaded the borrowed bikes on the train.

This, (let us further imagine), was after a short debate about whether they ought to.

Arthur: What if we kept them and got them converted?

Sweezus: Mountain bikes to racing bikes! No way.

Humboldt: And they were not yours to begin with. The children will need them for school.

Debate over. We all know the importance of school.

Let us now imagine that the tardy trio have made their way to the Guayaquil airport.

Say, by taxi.

And they have paid for the taxi with a Sea Salt prognostication.

Taxi driver: That will be fifty five dollars.

Arthur: Would you prefer to know what's in your future?

Taxi driver: Yes. Will I get married?

Arthur: It's fifty five dollars.

And let us imagine the Sea Salt predicted that the taxi driver would get married, by forming a tick.

Now let us imagine that Arthur has obtained three cut price airline tickets to Nantes. The flight leaves immediately.

It's the same flight that Gaius is on, with Terence and Saint Roley.

Terence wants to sit next to Sweezus.

Hi, little dude, says Sweezus. That your new hat?

Yes, says Terence. I got it for going to Hawaii.

How was Hawaii? asks Sweezus.

There was a VOLCANO! says Terence.

Not near you, says Sweezus.

It WAS, says Terence.

Okay, says Sweezus. Is that why the ends of your ear flaps frizzed out?

I don't remember, says Terence.

He's not going to say that he ruined it himself because Saint Roley said he looked like a beautiful woman.

Okay.

Let's say the thirteen hour flight is over. They have landed in Nantes.

Belle and Vello and David are waiting at the airport, having just arrived from Adelaide, via Dubai.

Sweezie! cries Belle. You made it! Arthur! Hi! Terence you look AMAZING! What a cool hat. And is this your new parrot?

This is Alexander von Humboldt, says Gaius.

Ha ha! laughs Vello. He doesn't look like a parrot.

She means me, says Saint Roley.

You don't look like a parrot, says David (ever the empiricist).

I'm not a parrot, says Saint Roley. I've been acting in loco parentis. But perhaps now I'm not needed. I should like to return to Saint Malo where I lost my dear brother.

Bye, says Terence.

I am Alexander von Humboldt, says Humboldt. You must be the famous Vello. I hear you have piles. Very painful.

Vello looks sour.

They make their way to the baggage carousel where the bikes are revolving in flat packs.

One for David. One for Gaius. One for Humboldt. And two others.

Surprise, guys! says Belle. I had your racing bikes sent over from Newcastle.

Brillant! You're the best, Belle,  says Sweezus.

She's a treasure, says Vello.

She is. That's one thing we don't need to imagine.

Ill Nut Monkeys

Sweezus is out on the water, when his phone rings.

Humboldt, not versed in phone etiquette, answers his phone.

Humboldt, says Humboldt. First up, though, this isn't my phone.

I know it isn't, says Gaius. You don't have one. If you had, I'd have called you.

Then this is fortuitous, says Humboldt.

They both agree that it is.

Where are you? asks Gaius. On your way back to Guayaquil?

No, still here at Salinas, says Humboldt. Sweezus and Arthur are out on the ocean. I've tried it. I must say...

Never mind that, says Gaius No need to tell me how good you are at surfing.

 How did you know? asks Humboldt. I just found out myself.

You seem to find yourself good at everything, says Gaius. Now, when Sweezus and Arthur come in, flag them down, and tell them that Terence, Saint Roley and I are on our way to the airport. Team Philosophe arrives in Nantes tomorrow.

Our team? asks Humboldt. You mean David Hume?

And Vello, Team Director, says Gaius. Also Belle, our nutritionist.

This all sounds very well organised, says Humboldt. And will my bicycle be arriving?

Guaranteed to, says Gaius. Just make sure you and the boys are arriving. And remember to send the bicycles you borrowed back to Riobamba on the train.

I shall, says Humboldt. They're surfing in now, I'll remind them.

Tomorrow then, says Gaius.

Brrp.

Best surf ever, says Sweezus, shaking the drops off.

I fear we must go at once, says Humboldt.

We could stay till tomorrow, says Arthur. Tour's not till Saturday.

And it's Thursday, says Humboldt.

Shit, is it? says Sweezus. Let me think.

He thinks, and realises:

If they head back to Guayaquil pronto, best case scenario is they get to Nantes tomorrow, and holy shit-for-brains! they only have Friday in Nantes to organise new racing bikes and new team outfits and then fuck-a-breeze block! still gotta ride out to freaking where is it? ill-nut-monkeys...

He explains this to Arthur and Humboldt.

Ile de Noirmoutier, says Humboldt.

Yeah that's it, says Sweezus. We're not gonna make it.

We are if we leave right away, says Humboldt. This is where Romantic philosophy can help us. Element six, in particular.

What's element six? asks Arthur, jamming the lid on Leanne's lunch box.

Faith in inner experience and the power of the imagination, says Humboldt.

Exactly. They are the only things left.

Forbidden To Wear A Costume

The new sea salt is heaped on the bandage.

It's full of hairs, says Leanne.

Too bad, says Arthur. They might come in useful for pointers.

Yuck, says Leanne. Hairs in my lunchbox.

Arthur stands up. His knee has dried. Surf beckons. He is ready to go back in the water.

The unknotted bandage unravels.

A dry piece of bread is revealed, stuck to his knee.

Want me to pick it off? asks Leanne.

Okay, says Arthur. Let's see the damage.

Wait, says Humboldt. Too soon. I don't recommend it.

But Arthur desires it. Leanne picks it off.

The gash has stopped bleeding. The newly formed scab contains crumbs.

Arthur returns to the surf with Leanne.

Humboldt scrapes the hairy sea salt into the lunch box.

He will not go back into the water. He will sit on a rock in the sunshine and gather his thoughts.

He takes out a notebook.

......

In Guayaquil, Gaius too has taken out a notebook.

He is waiting for Terence and Saint Roley to arrive on the train.

The train is due in fifteen minutes.

Plenty of time to sit on a bench at the station and gather his thoughts.

He should start a to do list.

Firstly, call Belle and make sure the bicycles are on their way to Nantes.

He calls Belle.

Yes, says Belle. Arriving tomorrow. On the same flight as me, papa and David.

Vello is coming? I though he had piles?

He has. But you know how he is. A micro-manager.

So he'll be our manager? asks Gaius.

Team director, says Belle. And, I should warn you, team clown. You'd better tell Terence. He hates clowns.

Team clown?

Don't worry, I've forbidden him to wear a costume. By the way, how is Terence?

I don't know. I'm at the station waiting for him now. He's with Saint Roley and possibly some wasps that he's become attached to.

Brrrrrr. The call cuts out before Belle can confirm that Gaius said wasps and attached to.

The train arrives.

The passengers get off.

Terence runs towards Gaius.

Guess what? says Terence. I've got ear wasps.

They are decorative, says Gaius. I'm relieved.

I can wear them up or down, says Terence.

Saint Roley flutters to a stop.

Keep them up, says Saint Roley. Or you won't hear instructions. Where are the others?

Not back yet from Salinas, says Gaius. I should call them.

He does.

On a rock,  Sweezus's phone rings.

Clinging To Leg Hairs

I don't often regret things, says Arthur, but I shouldn't have done that.

I don't doubt it, says Humboldt. Your store of Sea Salt is greatly diminished.

Arthur picks up a few grains of Sea Salt, on his finger

Rubs two fingers together.

Sea Salt falls onto his leg.

Forming a zero.

Like it knows, says Arthur.

Everything in the universe teaches us something, says Humboldt.

Not everything, says Arthur.

What? says Humboldt. No, not everything. You need to read my book Cosmos. The message of which is: We must strive to grasp nature's essence under cover of its outer appearances.

Even when its outer appearances are zero, says Arthur.

Humboldt regards Arthur's knee.

Cheer up, says Humboldt. As your knee dries in the sun, more salt forms. Tiny salt crystals, clinging to leg hairs. Look closely at them.

Arthur looks closely at them.

Yes. Why had he not thought of it before? Sea Salt is sea salt.

Sweezus comes back with Leanne. They have surfed in together

Ah! My mentor! says Humboldt. Did you see my first try?

It was good, but don't get too cocky, says Leanne.

Of course not, says Humboldt.

Is this the famous Sea Salt? asks Leanne.

I told her it got lumpy, says Sweezus. Hey! What happened?

I was testing the bag, says Arthur. And it exploded.

With the Sea Salt still in it, says Humboldt. We're recovering what we can of  the Sea Salt, and augmenting it with salt from our legs, but the bag is quite shredded.

The plastic bag lies there.

Shredded. Unhappy.

An unnatural part of the cosmos.

Plastic! says Leanne. Disgusting.

Keeps things dry, says Sweezus. Anyway, it was recycled.

But what do you do when its no longer fit for purpose? asks Leanne.

Dunno, make bricks or something, says Sweezus.

The plastic bag perks up a little.

It has seen many bricks on its travels. They look natural. Solid. A new life beckons.

But the problem remains. How to package the Sea Salt?

How're you going to carry it? asks Leanne. Got any more plastic?

No, says Sweezus. We pick it up when we find it, but there's none out here.

None out here? There probably is, but Sweezus won't be looking while the surf's up.

I've got a lunch box, says Leanne. When I've eaten my lunch you can have it.

What is it made of? asks Humboldt.

Stainless steel, says Leanne. No, only kidding. It's plastic. I've been meaning to get rid of it and buy a Planetbox. This'll make me do it.

Great. That's sorted.

Leanne eats her lunch.

The rest of the afternoon passes in surfing and scraping off knee salt.

A Harmonious System

That was exhilarating, says Humboldt.

We saw you, says Sweezus. You sure you never surfed before?

Absolutely, says Humboldt. I would have remembered. In fact, I was given some pointers by that young woman paddling out over there.

Good on her, says Sweezus. But we've got a problem.

Arthur is bleeding from the knee. The blood is dripping down both sides of his leg and forming a puddle.

He watches it grow.

You got a bandage? asks Sweezus.

Only a wet one, says Arthur.

He turns out his pockets. A dirty wet bandage. A knife. A sodden lump of tánta wawa.

Perfect, says Humboldt. Place the damp bread on the gash. Hold it there. I'll wrap the bandage.

Arthur presses the bread down. Probably Humboldt knows that bread contains disinfectant. Or yeast has a calmative effect. Or something. Whatever. Arthur is inclined to go with the treatment.

Humboldt wraps the dirty bandage round Arthur's knee.

Knife, says Humboldt.

Arthur hands him the knife. Humboldt cuts the bandage. It was too long.

But now it's too short to tie the ends off.

Just when everyone was thinking that Humboldt was excellent at everything.

Sorry, says Humboldt.

A sudden thought strikes Sweezus.

Where's the Sea Salt?

Other pocket, says Arthur. He pulls out the plastic bag containing the Sea Salt.

Six eyes stare at the Sea Salt, assessing the damage.

The Sea Salt has formed into lumps.

You need to spread it out to dry, says Humboldt. And test the packaging. Here, I'll do it.

It'll blow away, says Sweezus.

Not if I do it properly, says Humboldt. First, I'll dry out this strip of bandage, then I'll spread the salt on it. It won't blow away if I fold the bandage strategically.

Sweezus and Arthur watch him spread the bandage in a sunny position and pin down each end with small rocks.

Now we wait, says Humboldt. Let the sun do its work. Is not the cosmos a beautiful and harmonious system?

Yeah, says Sweezus. How long will it take?

Half an hour should do it, says Humboldt.

Mind if I take off ? says Sweezus. The waves out there are massive.

Go, says Arthur. I'll watch the cosmos unfolding.

Sweezus paddles out.

Humboldt pokes the plastic.

How will you test it? asks Arthur.

Blow into it, says Humboldt. When it's empty.

You could blow into it now, says Arthur. Those lumps aren't going anywhere.

You wish to save time? asks Humboldt.

I just want something to do, says Arthur.

Go ahead then, blow into it, says Humboldt. Don't let me stop you.

Arthur unties the plastic bag and blows into it.

The Sea Salt has not been paying attention.

The Sea Salt has been self obsessed.

Why this lumpish condition?

Will it persist?

BLOW! (courtesy of Arthur)

The Sea Salt is zapped! Every grain becomes detached from every other. The entire plastic bag's inner surface is covered with grains trying to escape their cosmic condition.

Inadvisedly, Arthur keeps blowing.

Pop!

Oh.

Not all of the Sea Salt lands in an ideal location.