This story should run and run he mused ...but as he slowly returned from his reverie the Curran couldn’t understand why Calvin and Rupert were looking perplexedly beyond him.
He turned to find the race commissairre, who bore a striking resemblance to Leeson, striding triumphantly towards the Team Inter Lunch bus. In his hand the commissairre was holding aloft a failed ‘B’un sample. At last, after years of suspicion, stand-offs and cover up, the truth was to be exposed. A riding career based on performance enhancing doughnuts was slithering into the gutter.
His mobile began to beep repeatedly. First, a dump text from his girlfriend Sheryl Crowpie. The second, a text from his publisher announcing that his books ‘It’s Not About the Baking’ and ‘Every Second Croissant’ were to be pulped.
Last and worst of all a text from the Leadership Team of the LiveStroganoff Foundation announcing its immediate dissolution. The fall was great and complete but eventually, stripped of his many records and titles, the Curran retired to Redhill and rode in relative anonymity with the local cycle club.
He was always careful to underachieve so as to avoid any unwanted attention but in his head and heart he knew that if he really wanted to he could beat every last one of them…
[ps. thanks to Pete for these enjoyable distractions. There will be some 'proper' cycling reports soon... promise! - Ed]