“They sit next to one another like monkeys sharing bananas and they chatter together like Armenian street prostitutes…”
Dear Gigi,
Look how the skinny Kangaroo Puta kneels at my mighty Spanish feet. He sits beside that Planeta of Tears who failed to win the title last season (even though I did everything to help him) as an equal, but he kneels in my presence.
I tell him things when he is at my feet. I tell him how much faster I am riding than he ever rode. I tell him how much better I look in leathers and how my hair is naturally wavy and sexy, especially when I make the lion highlights. I tell him how the Yellow Puta grows extra legs like the devil-lizard grows a new tail when the old one is chopped off.
And he listens very attentively, Gigi. He never interrupts and he never asks me to repeat myself. My words are like blessings to him.
He speaks Spanish, doesn’t he?
Never mind. Everybody who is educated speaks Spanish.
Look how he listens attentively! He is a good boy, this Stacey.
Yes, idiota, the paper is wet from your tears. Of course you cannot write on it.
When the stupid crying idiota (who is blessed by the Santa Maria di Magdalena y Mambosita herself just to be my team-mate) speaks with the malnourished Kangaroo Puta, they speak as equals.
They sit next to one another like monkeys sharing bananas and they chatter together like Armenian street prostitutes. The Crying Game even takes notes! I can only imagine what they have to talk about.
“You did not win last year,” the skinny one would say.
“No,” the sad-eyed puta would sob in reply. “I did not. I could not because I am mierda, and I would not take the advice of the Great Spartan.”
“You must always listen to the Great Spartan,” the bony little puta would say to him. “He is the only reason I ever managed to win anything. He is like Jesus and Buddha and Giacomo all at once, and even greater. Always listen to him. He has made Ducati great again.”
“I will!” the idiot will cry. “I swear by the milk my mother fed me! His mere presence is inspirational to me!”
And what a presence it is, Gigi! The record I have set at Sepang will never be beaten, and I feel they should close the racetrack. There is no longer any point in keeping it open. No-one will ever ride there any faster than I have.
It would be respectful if the little brown Chinese people who live there made a big statue of me where the racetrack used to be. It would give them something to pray to. I am like a god to them anyway. I do not understand a word of their jungle chattering, but I know it is all about me and how fast I am riding.
“Melepas babi spanyol!” they jabber. And “Kami akan memberi anda makanan kepada anjing!”
I always nod and smile and let them carry my bags because it makes them happy.
So now I am ready to begin the season. I think because I have this record, I will not have to race at Sepang again. So there is already 25 points for me before everybody else.
I told you I will dominate this year, Gigi! Even more than I did last year. I am strong because I have been playing soccer all winter and my legs are like mighty river eels.
The Ducati feels very good, except I think the seating position will need to be looked at. It needs to be a little bit more ready for my transitioning in mid-corner.
Also, there will be no suggestions about mapping this season, Gigi. I do not need any maps once I get to the circuit and the race has started. I am not an idiot, you know.
So yes, I am very excited and I look forward to winning the title this year, possibly as soon as Jerez.
Oh, and how good is it to see the Morbidelli motorcycle come back to racing MotoGP! My grandfather rode the Morbidelli once in 1937, but the filthy falangistas killed him.
I will see you soon, Gigi.
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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