At last the final day. The teams leave St-Quentin for Paris.
This is my favourite part of the Tour, says David.
It's a fine part, says Pierre-Louis.
They are wobbling along slowly, and drinking champagne.
Of course, observes Gaius, one could cut out three weeks of hard riding, and just drink champagne.
A foolish thing to do, in normal circumstances, says Vello, pouring himself another.
Careful! says David.
I wasn't advocating drunken riding, says Gaius. We could sit comfortably, in a bar.
And celebrate not competing, says Vello.
Think of the money we'd save, says David.
Sweezus, Arthur and Ranger Roger are right behind and can hear all the banter.
Is this your last Tour? asks Sweezus. You never told us.
Not at all, says Vello. We're just in an aerated mood.
That's what I'm in, says Ranger Roger.
Enjoyed your first Tour? asks David.
Yeah, heaps! says Ranger Roger. Who cares that we didn't win anything?
You can still win something, says Arthur.
What? The sprint into Paris? asks Ranger Roger.
The poetry competition, says Sweezus. You haven't done yours yet.
I have, says Ranger Roger. I was up all last night, making a list.
Excellent, says Vello. Give us a burst.
Ranger Roger empties his glass of champagne, and clears his throat.
My Tour, By Me, says Ranger Roger.
Pick up drinks and snacks
Avoid funny water
Lead the boss out
To what end?
Dax ducks in food bags
Oyster and nut packs
What rhymes with nuts?
To what end?
The ancient black carrot,
The irrelevant parrot
The day Cavendish crashed
On a bend.
Ranger Roger stops for a breather.
Is that the list or the poem? asks Arthur.
It's the poem, says Ranger Roger. And that's only the first half.
Did Cav crash on a bend? asks Vello .
But no one can remember.
It seems so long ago.
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