Rousseau's Dog

Phil Liggett: Well, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, what do you think of your chances after today's time trials?

Jean-Jacques: Not so good Phil. I've had a terrible day, thanks to my so-called team mates letting me down badly yesterday.

Phil: Ah yes, David Hume seemed to be riding for himself, I noticed. He took off up the Col de Romme like a man possessed.

Jean-Jacques: The devil take him! He doesn't believe in the connection between cause and effect. That the sun won't rise tomorrow is to him just as likely as that it will. He rates the destruction of the universe equally with the scratching of his finger. But I blame myself. I should have known he wouldn't be a team player.

Phil: And what about your other team mate, Voltaire? You seemed to be as thick as thieves yesterday. What went wrong there?

Jean-Jacques: Voltaire! I detest him! He is the one who said every man is guilty of the good he did not do. Hah! Then he is guilty of not sharing his Power Bars and electrolytic drinks with me after I had tragically dropped mine and they were consumed by a dog!

Phil: Tragic indeed!

Jean-Jacques: Particularly as it was my own dog. And now poor Sultan has the flux! Voltaire of course, found the situation absurdly funny, and rode off laughing.

Phil: All in all, a couple of bad days for you then, Jean-Jacques.

Jean-Jacques: It's the story of my life. Disloyalty, persecution, you name it. I'm looking at a completely new team next year. Jean-Paul Sartre is interested. I'm sure I'll get on better with an existentialist. He'll just do what he has to do.

Phil: Well, better luck tomorrow, Jean-Jacques, and all the best to Team Philosophe.

Jean-Jacques: Thanks, Phil. Now I'm off to spend some quality time with dear old Sultan.

Les Philosophes

Somewhere near Annecy, towards the back of the peloton, Voltaire and Jean-Jacques Rousseau are gaining steadily on David Hume.

Voltaire: Life is sown thickly with thorns, and there is no better remedy than to pass quickly through them. Watch out there!

Rousseau: Thanks! The world of reality has its limits.

Voltaire: Look at fat Hume up ahead there, wobbling all over the road. All styles are good, except for the tiresome.

Rousseau: Hee, hee! Happiest is the person who suffers the least pain. Hume will never make it up the Col de Romme.

Voltaire: Optimism is the madness of insisting all is well when one is miserable. Look, he's slowing down to take on more food.

Rousseau: Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet. Let's go!

Voltaire: It is the flash which appears, the thunderbolt will follow!

They pick up speed, and soon draw level with the fat Scottish philosopher.

Hume: Everything in the world is purchased by labour. I do not intend to lose.

Voltaire: Too bad! It is hard to free fools from the chains they revere.

Rousseau: Wheeee! Blame yourself for this, Hume!

Hume: I have no enemies, except indeed the other riders in Team Philosophe.

He grabs his food bag, slings it over his shoulder, and picks up speed at an astonishing rate.
In moments, he draws ahead of his two rivals once again.

Voltaire and Rousseau ( in unison ) : Sacre bleu!

Hume: A purpose, an intention, a design, strikes everywhere even the careless, most stupid thinker. So long boys! What is the greatest number? Number one!