Bad feeling in the peleton,

bad mouthing in the press

Fingers pointing, tongues are stabbing;

it’s a bit of a mess.

We hear hints which verge on slander,

Vicious words chosen to suggest

without the appearance of honest candour,

wrong-doing two abreast.

Careers are dangling in the gutter,

back pedalling excuses uttered,

Did the come back cancer hero

defile his legs with drugs,

or is the return to cycling glory

a great and epic story?

His reputation’s in the slipstream,

Lifting in speed as other riders

Drive the rumours forwards

Puncturing the dream.