Well, I'm still reflecting, genuinely, on what was kind of one of the most extraordinary

finalies to a stage I can ever remember.

And I think it struck a lot of you like that as well, and in particular, we had two contributions

yesterday after the stage in the early evening, one from a couple of Twitter accounts,

which bear repeating, they're kind of poetic.

Well, one's literally a poem, and the other's just a sort of interesting poetic summation

of how the stage planned out, or planned out, sorry, not planned, I don't know where that

rogue L came into.

Anyway, this one is from an account called Arundo Donuts, that's Arundo Donuts.

And this sort of like semi-poetic summation goes like this, nothing happened.

Nothing happened, nothing happened, nothing happened, nothing happened, nothing happened,

something happened, something happened, something happened, someone won.

Which is kind of like, I can't really pick foot with that because it seems to me to be

pretty perfect.

Then Andy Graves came up with a thread, actually, a two-tweet thread that featured a poem

that he written, of four verses in total, and it goes like this, just came off throat,

took it with the appropriate gravitas.

When Remco took a tumble caused by a pro-zac dog, he sat for a time, conditioned to catalogue.

Then in the final three, went down again, once more to find his arse in the drain, drain.

Organizers relieved that he's still competing, seems done the worse for pavement meeting.

If in this giro he can still perform, all we be grateful, he kept his legs warm.

I like that a lot.

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