Dear George

Published on September 21st, 2018 | by Boris


“And no, I was not crossing myself. I stopped believing in God a week after you joined the team. That was Gabarrini…”

Dear George,

I’m not sure I know how to make the Aragon race “sexy as a Mamba in red leather dance-panties”. But I will try. I always try. Ask anyone.

I’m still struggling to understand why it’s important, apart from your demand he be “less boring”, to put a “pretty summer dress” on Dovi and make him dance “like a spanked prostitute” on the pit wall each time you go past during Practice.

“It is almost too much to absorb in one look.”

I agree that “laughing time is over”. I can assure you no-one was laughing when you fell off last race. I promise. There was no laughter. Anything that may have sounded like laughter was in fact indigestion, or a faulty telemetry diode. You do know how noisy that new telemetry is.

I see you have erected the Grand Shark Fin of Sexy Champion on your motorhome, and I know, because you have told me, it is now the time of the Super Spanish Sex-Butter Race and you are bringing all the sexy there is to bring. It really is a great deal of sexy.

We could all see you modelling that Alpine Star Cupra gear in Pit Lane. It was certainly something to see – especially when you were pulling it on over the sheen of the butter on your torso. It made me a little faint, to be honest. I’m sure Alpine Stars will double production on the heels of this.

And no, I was not crossing myself. I stopped believing in God a week after you joined the team. That was Gabarrini. He is like a bearded nun in his constant devotions to Jesus.

I also understand you are among your people at Aragon. Both of them. And yes, it is possible their support and cheering will drown out the sound of the octopus screaming out its thunder from the telemetry box.

Your suggestion I fit a loud-speaker and a microphone to your helmet so your thoughts during the race can be heard by your fans is an excellent one. This is certainly how I will be spending my Thursday evening.

I am sure everyone will want to hear your assessment of everything as you show the “losing loser-putas” your “sun-hot butter-bottom” on your way to the finish line – from how many years prison Redding should serve, to how KTM is right to give up on MotoGP and start a dwarf-circus with Pedrosa as the head clown.

And of course your thoughts on what it will be like to be the “Supreme Repsol who will teach the Satu Hati Mati Fati Bushido Putas which chain to lube and which telemetry to tighten” will be vital to the future of the sport.

I understand you plan to win every round from Aragon onwards. That’s great. No, really. I speak for the whole team when I say we very much look forward to celebrating your crushing victories and your ultimate possession of the championship.

I will be speaking to Repsol this afternoon to see if, as you say: “The grinning donkey-boy and his 1000 teeth is going on holidays any time soon.”

I will report back after Qualifying. Oh, and please stop marching up and down in front of Rossi’s motorhome in your Spartan uniform. It won’t take much for Jarvis to shoot someone at this stage of the season.

Still here with my eyebrows.


About the Author

is a writer who has contributed to many magazines and websites over the years, edited a couple of those things as well, and written a few books. But his most important contribution is pissing people off. He feels this is his calling in life and something he takes seriously. He also enjoys whiskey, whisky and the way girls dance on tables. And riding motorcycles. He's pretty keen on that, too.

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