The Wattmutt Speaks Out

Hi all, this is The Wattmutt. I have managed to purloin (great word for a dog. eh?) the deluded old fool’s computer while he struts about in his Muswell Hill Peloton bibshorts. He says that I stink, but it must be three weeks and 400 kilometres since they (that’s him and the shorts) have seen soapy water.

Tourmalet… blah, blah, blah! Paris-Brest-Paris… blah, blah, blah. I have to listen to this crap all day long. Today we went for a walk up a steep hill just so he could recce the route before trying to get the Strava KOM. Even The Wattmeisterin wanted to have a crack at it on the basis that if she reached the top she would automatically be crowned Queen of the Mountain because  NO OTHER WOMEN HAVE ATTEMPTED IT!

The pair of them are pathetic. Anyway, to cut a long story short, they both succeeded and bought a cheap bottle of Cava to celebrate. You should have seen them, slurring their speech and patting each other on the back.

Afterwards,  The Wattmeister managed to cook some squid and lentil stew, so tonight,  the air in the confined space of the Wattmobile will be thick with their emissions.

It’s a dog’s life!

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