Damian's DCS Blog Day 5: Bonzo goes to Dollywood

Last summer I went to a Monday morning meeting with one of the leading sports marketing groups, who are based on Vauxhall Embankment. When I came up from the tube I noticed a few garishly dressed women standing 50 yards away from me and making an awful lot of noise as they tried unsuccessfully to flag down taxis. As I got closer to them I realised that they weren't actually women at all, but cross dressers who had obviously fallen out of a nite club that hour and had started their week with a bang. It was not exactly a sight for sore eyes as they looked like shabby rejects from Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. Not the best.

Now before you think I've completely lost my marbles on the bike, the reason I recall this story is entirely relevant as it was a similar sight that greeted me on Fancy Dress Day when I came down for breakfast this morning. There, looming large in front of me was the one and only former Wasps and England captain Lawrence Dallaglio dressed in his customary full cycle kit with a pair of frilly knickers over the top, and sporting a red tinsel wig that actually complemented his trowel spooned on make up very nicely indeed. Even though we go back some 20 years, I can’t ever recall seeing him looking so fetching. Overnight Lol had become Lola (L O L A, Lola), and the reaction of the locals in La Spezia to this 6’ 4” man mountain strutting down the street in lycra and underwear was priceless. Mothers shielded their children’s eyes, while old grannies smiled at him thinking that Le Cirque must in town...

Fortunately Lol was not alone in the fancy dress department. In fact it was worrying just how many of the male riders had opted for women’s underwear, and I’ll wager that quite a few didn’t hand back their outfits when the day was done. Hugh McHardy was wearing a pair of bright pink tights and a fat white belt over his cycle pants. I wasn’t sure who he reminded me of more – Rod Stewart or one of the ITV World of Wrestling superstars of the 70’s. "Ask him Ref, ask him!" One-ahh, Two-ahh, Easy! Easy! etc 

The Dirty Dozen - renamed 'The Flirty Dozen' - set off from La Spezia marshalled expertly by our beloved Captain Bonzo – who had gone to extraordinary efforts in the women’s underwear department, topped off nicely by a blonde wig that reminded me of Limahl in his prime. Too shy shy? I should co-co. The local traffic couldn’t believe their eyes as they saw our motley crew swerving in and out of the morning road chaos. I was wearing my all in one jumpsuit with pride, and had made special overshoes to match – Lawrence remarked that I looked like Bungle out of Rainbow – but with a bigger bum. In return I cycled at the back of the group and left numerous fliers with his photo and phone number in the local phone boxes. Just dial 0898 BigRugbyBoy.com

The fancy dress idea was inspired as this was climbing day – never an easy prospect, and after climbing the long 11km mountain in steady drizzle in my romper suit, I am dripping with sweat, not a pleasant sight. As the rain got heavier, we were fortunate to find a mountain top restaurant and the piping hot chocolate that we glugged tasted like liquid gold. The patron was very pleased to see us, and insisted on taking a photo of the group to put up in the restaurant. He’s obviously keen to corner to cross-dressing cycling market, so more power to his visionary elbow I say.

There are two very different types of cyclist on this trip – the ones who see each day as a challenge riding against the clock and who want to progress effectively as a team. Sad to say included in this bracket are the Dirty Dozen, and also Team Armstrong, where Messrs Ferdinand and Dixon have been looking very assured. The only minor blip for Sir Les has been the two falls he has had off his bike in the first 4 days. This has not gone unnoticed, and Les was duly awarded the Jurgen Klinsmann Award for services to Diving at last night’s dinner. For these groups, speed is of the essence as we try to push each other at a very competitive level. Must be mid life crisis looming large.

At the other end of the spectrum you will find the more relaxed, and dare I say it, experienced tourists. The living embodiment of this philospophy is in the Scottish Chapter – Greg Sim and Hugh McHardy – both top, top men. Not for them the heart rate monitors, the road side lunch breaks and the race against the clock. Greg and Hugh have taken a far more sophisticated approach to this event and have endeavoured to sample the local cuisine and culture on their way round. Lunch in Pisa, pasta in Porto Fino, a nice glass of Chianti here and there, and then a coffee break as and when suits. I must admit to being slightly envious when I hear of their days going with the spirit, and suspect that they’ve probably got the balance right between fun and fundraising.

After a few more climbs the journey brings us to rush hour in Genoa, which we navigate with the help of our newly acquired local guide, Guiseppe Ercola, Chairman of Sacla UK, the Pesto Pioneers, and makers of Dallaglio Pasta Sauce which is making promising inroads into this multi million pound endorsement market. Very nice it is too. Genoa is an important sea port in Northern Italy, and our arrival after a long day’s climbing is not made any easier as we hit rush hour, and a phalanx of early evening traffic. 

The remarkable aspect of this day is that everyone is still in their original costumes – dare I say it, my romper suit has proved to be invaluable in keeping me warm throughout the ride, and Lawrence and Bonzo’s ladies underwear is still intact, even if their mascara has run a bit in the intervening 110 kms.

One of the more unusual sights is seeing these two men trying to pull their pants up whilst cycling to protect their..er..decency, much to the bewilderment of the local drivers, who nearly swerve off the road in astonishment. This erratic driving combined with Lawrence not having any mud guards means that there’s a distinct increase in skid marks in the region this evening.

We get to our hotel in Arenzano where we are treated to a sumptuous dinner and fine Italian hospitality courtesy of Guiseppe and Sacla, and the camaraderie in the room is excellent. It’s hard to believe that we only met as a group six days ago – which seems like a lifetime ago now – yet the esprit de corps is overwhelming and testament to the positive attitude of everyone involved in the trip. We are delighted to be joined by the local mayor who is a suave looking individual and younger looking version of George Hamilton. Our very own heart throb, Jonny Nye feels slightly aggrieved that there’s a better looking man in the room than him, and excuses himself early for a facial and a manicure.

Given that this is our last night before we all (hopefully) finish Stage 1, Lawrence invites the Captains of each of the groups to say a few words about their team experiences this week, and then nominate a person in their group who has been the outstanding rider. No question for the Dirty Dozen – Kerry has been nothing short of inspirational this week as she hurtled up the climbs, staying near the front of the peleton throughout and being 4 months pregnant into the bargain – a real honour to ride with her and indeed all of Bonzo’s crew.

The post dinner discussions carry on long into the night, and Harvey proves his professional dexterity by jumping behind the bar and pouring healthy quantities of grappa for all and sundry – he is the perfect host. Steeled by this local drop, I approach our resident golf pro Kevin Stables from Elgin, Invernesshire. Given his location, Kevin is one of the few riders who could handle himself in the snow on Day 1, and a nicer man you could not wish to meet. Unfortunately I can’t remember a thing he’s told me about my stance, swing plane or follow through by the time I go to bed, let alone first thing in the morning, so it’s back to the drawing board for me.

Only one more day to go now, keep calm and carry on.

www.justgiving.com/dhopley 


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