For the last few years, I’ve felt a curious compulsion to watch the Tour de France, having previously shown no interest in it at all. Ever. Maybe it’s the comparative lack of football that’s on (this summer being a glorious exception). Maybe it’s the fact that I can’t quite afford to go on holiday to France for four weeks at a time. Or possibly it’s to do with the sheer brilliance, oddness, tradition and spirit evoked by approximately 200 lycra-clad blokes cycling approximately 2500km, the majority of which seems to be uphill in the rain. It is thrillingly bonkers.

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