Dear George

Published on February 14th, 2019 | by Boris


“Ola, Alberto! How is it you pronounce your surname? Is it ‘Poo-Ig’ or ‘Pweeg’?”

Dear Alberto,

Ola! How is it you pronounce your surname? Is it “Poo-Ig”? or “Pweeg”? You are from Norwaynia where live the Eskimos, yes? You must be the first Eskimo to be in MotoGP. Your tribe must be very proud. They will name a polar bear after you for sure.

OK, so first I have to say to you welcome to my new team, which you will now call El Repsolo Grande y Supremo e Impresionante y Poderso y Valiente y Fuerte y Guapo y Sin Limites.

And I am now the Supreme Repsol, so that is clear to everyone. There is no more “But Marty wants this” and “Marty wants that” and “Who cares what the Dwarf Puta wants because that stack of old tyres hides him from view”.

All eyes are now on the Mamba! And all ears will hear the “SSSSSS-CHAH!” of my war-hiss.

After the first race no-one will remember who Marty is. But I will fulfil my contractual duties as the Supreme Respol and help him to better understand his Honda.

You know of the great work I did with that weeping idiot at Ducati for two years. Gigi even made a picture of me and made him kiss it each night before he went to sleep. The Sad-Eyed Puta is still crying because he misses me and because he has the heart of worm that lives in a village latrine, but I helped him anyway.

So now to me, yes? It is best for you to print the World Champion T-shirts now. I do not want you to panic and to run around slapping people when I seal the title in Jerez.

Secondly, instruct Marty to keep his horse-mouth closed when I am near him. The light from the big piano keys in his mouth hurt my eyes. And I need my eyes to see who I am lapping, yes? And since I will be lapping everybody, my eyes are important. I will only explain this to you this once.

Thirdly, please ask the little Bushido Putas from Honda to bow lower when they approach me. If their heads could touch the ground that would be best. Yes, even the old ones with bad backs. Respect is respect, Alberto. It is like that in the jungle where the polar bears hunt your people. They respect the polar bear. I am the polar bear here and you are like your people. It is a good anagram, isn’t it?

Fourthly, my old hand-bones have now all been replaced with octopus, shark and scorpion bones. So they are much stronger. See what a great champion I am, Alberto? The Maniac Puta injected monkey bladders and pig anuses into his stupid face to look more like a woman and missed the test at Sepang, while I missed it because I was making myself a more championy champion.

Anyway, we shall soon speak more about my expectations of you. My best regards to your tribe and I hope they catch a big polar bear for the coming winter.

You remain my obedient servant.



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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