“Dear Carmelo, we need to do that over again. Did you see the putas cheating? All the putas were cheating!”
Dear Carmelo,
We need to do that over again. Did you see the putas cheating? All the putas were cheating. Everyone of them!
That Iannone puta, he is the worst. He jumped the start like a scared bitch and I say to myself, “George, you cannot just let that go. This is Sparta!”
So I give him a little nudge in Turn One so he would know I knew he was cheating, and then because he has no respect, his telemetry locked my frontal butter and I fell.
But the race had not really started. Not properly. Everyone knows at this level that we first have a few laps to settle down and find the rhythm.
Nobody is allowed to pass anyone for the first lap at least and then after maybe take it easy and let the tyres find the correct temperature.
This is like a rule everyone knows. But only I follow it!
So then we have an agreement, Carmelo. We will not count this Argentina race and Dorna must disqualify everyone. Everything starts from Texas!
Oh, I think you maybe send Doctor Costa to see Gigi. He has crawled into the wheel-well of my motorhome and I can hear him breathing, but I cannot see him.
Love,
George.
About the Author
Boris 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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