Gone dotty

The first week of Le Tour is yet to finish and already Gabrielle Gate has fried fish and whipped up an omelet quicker than Mark Cavendish won Stage 2. With 17 mouth-watering courses to come, bike riding has never been so appetizing.

GetUp Simon Sheikh, you’ve peaked too early. You may well have startled Sophie Mirrorball on Q&A but your fainting episode has not fooled legions of cycling fans whose attention is focused on Le Grand Boucle. Like Sylvain Chavanel’s vain attempts at sprinting for glory in the first stages of the race, Simon Says “settle in the saddle Simon, pace yourself, for it’s a long and torturous ride to Paris.”

Thanks heavens for Le Tour de France. There’s nothing better than 3400-odd ball-breaking kilometres to put a bit of distance between oneself, Gina Rinehart and blubbering politicians. Bound for Les Alps I’m leaving the mining mistress in her underground bunker and ‘the boats’ far behind. So too Tomic’s tantrum, Stosur’s sad sojourn on centre court and the customary capitulation by the Blues: a trio of sporting lowlights sent to deepest depths. For now I have crossed the channel and follow Cadel as he puffs his way to Paris.

This race wheels in the world, even preeminent physicists have recognised the rider Boasson Haggen for his subatomic ability to force a fundamental structure of the pelaton. Actually, it was the Higgs Boson particle and its effect on matter, but who am I to stick a spoke in a boffin’s wheel during this time of triumph.

Road rage and general disdain for cyclists is put on ice for 21 days in July. The only talk of carbon concerns its composition in bike frames and wheel rims, not tax. The ETS has been replaced with BMC, Bloody Magnificent Cadel, whose team pushes way beyond the threshold and pays its leader back in a way only a peloton of philanthropic domestiques can: hopefully piloting an Australian to back-to-back victories.

Chateaux pop up like cardboard cutouts on our TVs, helicopters hover above the lycra army as it beetles from Liege to Limoux and Pau to Paris. The whole world is enjoying the ride at the same time an Australian team Orica GreenEdge competes for the first time in the greatest bike race on earth.

So get on your bike and time trial yourself to the newsagency. Bolt on a sissy bar, whack on a basket and fill it with baguettes. This is not the time to back peddle. I’m green with envy as speedsters hit 70+kph in the sprints, turn white at any talk of drugs and will definitely turn a bilious shade of yellow if forced to peddle 3000ks to Paris. Vive le Tour!