So the circus that is the Tour de France has been rolling into towns across Holland, Belgium and France for the past week with all the thrills and excitement you’d expect and, as with any circus, a couple of shifty looking travelling folks:

This year’s race got off to a predictable start with Fabian Cancellara winning his 5th prologue in imperious style. Camcellara had hoped that this win and subsequent x-raying of his bike would finally kill the rumours about his *mechanical doping* (the asterisk is the blog sarcastic air quote) at this year’s Flanders and Roubaix:

Sadly for Fabian, the results proved inconclusive:

In a further attempt to dispel “the rumours” Cancellara quipped to journalists: “After they checked my bike, I said, ‘You should also check the motor: Me!’”. Despite this evidence to the contrary, Cancellara has had to develop a pretty decent sense of humour in recent months as surely as his years of hard work have developed his *bionic* legs. And any sane person believes that to be true – Cancellara’s victories are thanks solely to his physical abilities and hard work. Although some – those nearer the Gazza end of the sanity continuum – might suggest his similarity to the Six Million Dollar Man doesn’t stop at bionic limbs. For this Tour has revealed that he switches his team radio to “transmit” by tweaking his right nipple:

The simple act of squeezing together his index finger and thumb enables him to both send updates to the team car and a frisson of excitement to himself. By all accounts by twisting his left nipple, Fabian can control the speed of his Gruber electric assist.

His motor was put to good use over the cobbles of the Ardennes as he successfully guided Andy Schleck through the treacherous cobbles (insofar as cobbles are capable of treachery) in the final 30kms of stage 3. Of course, Fabian’s guidance of Frank was less successful but 1 out of 2′s not bad. That stage also produced the shock of the week if most commentators are to be believed. They all professed that feather weight Contador would cross the cobbles of Paris-Roubaix with all the grace, and ultimately success, of a drunk clown crossing a tight-rope. I can only guess at the number of complementary croissants were spat onto keyboards as Contador crossed the line just behind the lead group.

Crash! Bang! Wallop!

As with every Tour there’s been no shortage of crashes in this opening week. Stage 2 in particular, as the riders descended the Stockeu, turned into a decidedly disastrous dress rehearsal of “Le Tour on Ice”. La Grosse Chute – in which every rider was obliged to fall off at least once – put an end to Christian Vande Velde Tour with broken ribs and Frank Schleckt’s was over the next day with a broken collar bone but the “Bad Luck of the Week” award has to go to Armstrong. His legendary bike handling skills appear to have deserted him to such an extent that Denny Menchov has been giving him some tips on staying upright. In fact, so far in this Tour Armstrong’s been on the floor more times than an MP waiting to vote. For someone with GC aspirations that’s bad enough but let’s not forget that Armstrong’s approaching an age where having a “nasty fall” could leave him hospitalised for months. Finally on stage 8 to Morzine-Avoriaz, Armstrong’s bad luck put an end to his challenge for an eighth title – he came off his bike 3 times and lost nearly 12 minutes to the day’s winner Schleck. It was sad to see that the days when Armstrong was able to make his own luck are well and truly gone but at least he can use the bad luck as an excuse as a crutch for his failure to win. And if he keeps falling off at this rate, it’s crutches that he’ll need.

Just as Armstrong’s luck seems to have gone, so too has the dignity of QuickStep’s Carlos Barredo and Caisse d’Epargne’s Rui Alberto Costa. For there are few more pathetic sights than that of a grown man dressed in lycra scrabbling around on the floor with another grown man also dressed in lycra:

The fight reached its climax at the end of stage 6 as Costa removed his front wheel and set about Barredo’s head and neck. As bicycle sourced weapons go, a front wheel isn’t going to do much harm to your opponent – unless you throw it like Odd Job’s bowler hat – but I suppose, save an empty bidon, it was all he could removed while he was still in a rage. Costa must be cursing the day bike manufacturers introduced the integrated seat post.

In the face of the FLandis doping allegations Lance Armstrong remained at his statesman best. Calmly dismissing the accusations made as being so beneath him that they’re not even worth commenting on and in doing so not actually having to comment on them.

But it seemed as if it had all became a little too much for Armstrong as he crossed the line to finish 3rd in the 2010 Tour of Luxembourg. Because as he did so a heckler dared to cry “Liar! Cheat!” from the crowd. And again as Armstrong was being interviewed came the cat-call “Liar! Cheat!”. This was a heckle too far for Lance, and out went the statesman’s poise and in came the bad attitude.

“Come and do that to my face!” Armstrong repeatedly spat back as he mounted the barrier and curled a finger.

Armstrong followed this outburst up by claiming, with some exasperation, that he pitied “the fool who come and do that to my face!”. But fears that the exchange might escalate from handbags into a full blow ruckus – possibly involving a cabbage cannon – were thankfully not realised. And as Armstrong was lead away by his security guard to enjoy a glass of ice cold milk he could be heard muttering “I ain’t flying on no plane with no crazy fool”.

Hear Europeans Boo!

I’m sure you’ll be amazed to learn that the account above doesn’t strictly follow actual events. If you’d like to see what actually happened then have a look at the video below.

Warning: This video contains 5 minutes of booing and particularly grating European voices dully calling “Laaance!”

This post might be a little bit late but during this year’s Tour I couldn’t help noticing the similarities between Armstrong and Contador and the Steptoes:

OK, so I realise that this is possibly one of the worst Photoshop efforts every to see the light of day, and it’s based on one of Armstrongs facial expression captured on the podium but, unlike the old man in the Alps, I think it’s got legs.

Both Harold and Albert and Alberto and Lance were trapped by circumstance both desperately wishing that they could escape from the other but equally both secretly knowing that they needed the other.

Of course, now he’s formed team RadioShack Lance is finally be rid of the ungrateful Alberto but, mark my words, he’ll miss him soon enough.