Who was troughing Michelin Starred Cuisine at Misano 1 and who was shuttling between the bog and the bidet? Let’s dive head-first into the toilet bowl to see who drew a Royal Flush and who had to flush mid-squat to stop the bowl flowing over. We rate our Winners and Squitters by the dish that left them either climbing the podium or gulping the Imodium.
Gourmets
Who was feasting on delicacies at somebody else’s expense this weekend?
Marc Marquez
The Spanish Antichrist is on a (toilet) roll. Not only was this the Number Two feature race win for him in as many weeks, but the Catalan managed to drop his kecks and squeeze this win out almost literally in Valentino Rossi’s back yard. (You know you’re near Tavullia when the clock faces have all had the numbers 9 and 3 chiselled off them, and the locals stop at 9.15 and 2.45 each day to repeatedly cross themselves and say 46 Hail Marys). And just to rub the Yellow noses in his droppings, Marc soundly beat Vale’s prosecco-pounding protégé Pecco in the feature race.
Rating: Lobster Ravioli 🍴🍴🍴🍴🍴
Frankie Carchedi
There might not be any Brits actually riding in MotoGP (or even testing MotoGP bikes now that Crutchlow is down to only 1 fully functional limb), but at least there’s one hugely talented Brit kicking ass in the premier class. Marc Marquez’s crew chief has previously engineered also-ran Joan Mir to a World Championship victory with Suzuki, then turned Fabio Digibox from a nobody on the fast track to MotoE into a MotoGP race-winner, and now he’s helped #93 go from snapped-armed has-been to multiple Ducati race winner. It’s as if Frankie is MotoGP’s answer to The Equalizer, seeking out those in need and solving all their problems. (Obviously the old Edward Woodward Equalizer rather than the Denzel one. Frankie Carchedi is pretty cool, but let’s not go crazy here).
Rating: White Truffle Taglioni 🍴🍴🍴🍴🍴
Pecco Bananas
You wouldn’t know it from the “well-slapped bum” expression on his face, but this was a highly successful weekend for the drunken, SUV-crashing Italian. Unlike his boozy antics on Ibiza, Pecco remained upright and out of the ditch. He didn’t win, but he slashed the points gap between himself and the championship leader.
Rating: Last night’s kebab reheated in the air fryer. 🍴🍴🍴
Bidets
Who spent the weekend with their butt cheeks clamped firmly onto the porcelain throne, in between “clear the air” visits to the bidet?
Joan Mir
The [checks Wikipedia] former MotoGP champion made the perfectly sensible decision to spend the weekend sputtering fragments of his digestive tract out of his rear orifice at transonic speeds rather than riding the Honda RC213V, and who can blame him? Patients in lunatic asylums are known for hiding pills in their cheeks to trick their doctors, but Joan Mir is the first person ever to do this with Imodium. A bold choice, but nobody in their right mind would do any different. (Rumour has it that Mir now requires a lung transplant after blasting one of the air-filled organs out of his backside and around the U-bend during one of his more violent eruptions.)
Rating: Discount Sushi, reduced to clear 🧻🧻🧻🧻🧻
Jorge Martin
It’s been obvious for a long time that the Spaniard’s brain is a pretty “relaxed fit” in his cranium, but Jorge’s decision to change bikes was so monumentally stupid that even Jack Miller was shocked. (For a moment it seemed like an inspired choice as there was a rumble that sounded like thunder as he pulled into pit lane, but that just turned out to be “basso-profundo” journalist Neil Morrison in the press box booming “What the f***ing hell is he doing???”)
Rating: Week old, room temperature shellfish in mayonnaise sauce 🧻🧻🧻🧻
Frankie Morbidelli
Even when things are going well for the Brazilian-Italian, he always manages to find a way to balls things up. He topped off what looked like an extremely impressive return to form by ludicrously crashing out of a potential podium position. On the plus side, this gave him honorary membership of the Lowes Twins.
Rating: Hot Dog from an unlicensed street vendor 🧻🧻🧻
Dorna
Instead of fixing the problems that MotoGP currently has (atrocious front tyres, cretinous aero-squat rules package and rubbish racing) the governing body decided to fix something that ain’t even remotely broken by trying to force “sh*te to shore radio” on the championship. Literally nobody wants this. The fans don’t want it, the teams don’t want it, and the riders definitely don’t want to be elbow to elbow with Marc Marquez in a 150mph kink when a loud voice in their earholes suddenly yells “Yellow Flags in Sector 4!”
Seriously, Dorna, wrap this idea around a large cactus and use it to vigorously plug up the exit of your digestive tract.
Rating: Pizza from the touristy part of an Italian town. 💩💩💩💩💩