Having to deal with Gianni Bugno face-to-face in two meetings within the space of a week is enough to drive me to throw my Guinness pint through the nearest wall.
I’d rather deal with Jonathan Vaughters six hours a day for seven days straight than put up with Bugno’s passive/agressive cologne-filled nonsensical rants. He’s just as bad as when he was a rider for Gatorade; he’d proudly yell his intention to attack Indurain into submission and spin for less of an attack than Schleck did at this year’s tour. No wonder Fignon was fed up with his ridiculous antics. No matter.
Yes, friends, last Tuesday saw me meet with the CPA, the so-called Professional Rider’s Association, listening to Bugno whine, whine, whine about how it took him five months before we’d even consider him to be someone to discuss anything to do with the professional peloton. Gianni, my friend, we just do that to piss you off. It’s because of the cologne. And the fooking gold chains. Is that a beard? Is it not a beard? Are you shaving it? Are you keeping it? We’re just at a loss on that, and frankly, Adorni still thinks you act like a gigolo, not to mention the fact that @mplsminx thinks that you’re most unbangable in your current form.
Needless to say, I’m fucking thrilled to not be directly involved with the Professional Cycling Council. However, since Javier Barrio came down with a questionable case of food poisoning over the weekend, I had to loan Vittorio Adorni the services of my illustrious manservant, Bhon Mhat (follow him on twitter @patsbhonmhat). I hope he did a fair job live tweeting from the meetings today…
No, this week is all about having to solidify my run for another term as the “supremo numero uno” of the UCI. You see, it was announced on Friday by that fop Gregor Brown from Cycling Weekly that Andrei Tchmil is going to “give it a go” for the presidency.
Now this is quite an interesting development. As most of you know Tchmil’s boss, Igor Makarov, has been part of the UCI Management Committee since this spring, when he was selected by the UEC to be one of the two new representatives for the post. Makarov and I have had a peaceful détente, as well, since he more or less circulates in the sphere of influence with Verbruggen and Rogge. I somewhat mind my own fooking business, as it’s always safe to remain directly out of the line of fire.
As it had been negotiated between Verbruggen and Makarov this past spring, I was to remain president for four more years, after which the UCI would be the domain of the Russians to help solidify Makarov’s resumé for his run toward supreme leader of Russia (which already has the blessing of Putin, mind you). So you could say that it was somewhat of a surprise that Tchmil publicly announced his candidacy for the position now. I mean, this is TCHMIL after all.
Not familiar with his history after his career? Well, before that, let’s start with the fact that this guy couldn’t figure out if he was Russian, Ukrainian, or Belgian. Then he comes to us, begging for work after Chocolade Jacques held a mutiny and tossed him out on his ear like yesterday’s fooking page 3 girlio. We felt bad, so we gave him the UCI Centre post, just to keep him out of trouble, and out of everyone’s way. He’s not the brightest bulb, you know. However, he follows orders very well, just don’t let him try to come up with his own ideas (hence many mutinies – like Pozzato recently).
Then the Moldavian contingent came after him with an ego stroke – Minister for Sport of Moldavia. Of course that’s like saying you were a football star for Fiji. Who? Where? Whatever. Two years that lasted. Two years. Then Makarov came calling, with all his connections and contacts. Properties in Italy, blah, blah, fooking blah in Tchmil’s name, all the while, of course, Andrei isn’t able to figure out that there’s l-a-u-n-d-e-r-i-n-g happening in his name, but I’ll leave that up to other folks to discuss in their time and way. Right folks? Right?
So what does this presidential run by Tchmil truly mean? Well judging from his run at the AIGCP presidency, not much. For fook’s sake, Vaughters ran circles around him without having to move a muscle. Tchmil only got two votes there – his and probably one of his cronies. The fact that this guy can’t even lose that gracefully (he pulled “his” team, Katusha, out of the AIGCP after that big flop) should also tell you how his phoning campaign will go. I’m sure it will resemble something like this:
Federation rep: Hello?
Tchmil: Hello. My name is Andrei. You will vote for me for UCI presidente.
Federation rep: Um, yes. Hello. Is this a prank phone call?
Tchmil: No. I am running for the UCI presidente role. I expect you to vote for me. No questions asked. Yes?
Federation rep: Ah okay. So what is your platform?
Tchmil: Why would you ask me about my flooring? This is about presidente job.
Federation rep: No, I mean why should you be the UCI president?
Tchmil: Because I’m better than McQuaid. And Makarov wants me to be presidente. He has master plan.
Federation rep: Master plan? Is he looking at improving the sport? What is his idea to help women’s cycling? Track cycling?
Tchmil: I don’t know about those things. I only know about riding fast on road.
Federation rep: Are you going to continue the global expansion of the sport?
Tchmil: We will bring glory to mother Russia. and lots of medals. I remember that part of plan. Oh and Russian president of country.
Federation rep: Yes, well, that’s great, but I think I’ll stay with McQuaid on this… you seem a little too biased in your feelings.
Tchmil: мудак. ебать выходные и умереть. *click*
Federation rep: Hello? Hello? Well that was bizarre.
Needless to say, I’m not that concerned about Tchmil and his run. Verbruggen and I firmly have everyone on side. We’ve withstood many rogue factions and their attempts to take over the UCI for their own personal gain in the past, and I’m sure there will be many, many more. Let’s just hope that Verbruggen’s attempt to wrestle my replacement for 2016 ends with an acceptance of our conditional offer, so we can tell Makarov and his boys to fook off.
I just hope that Verbruggen doesn’t change his mind and allow this arse-clown a place at the table.