A geezer broke the skiing speed record. He traveled at 155 MILES per hour. None of yer rotten, keeelo-meters, no, proper miles. I reckon that’s fucking easy. But that’s because I’m fucking stupid. If you’ve traveled in a car at 120, 130, 140, it gets hairy. Very hairy. Scary. Out-of-controlly. And that’s with four big fat, grippy tyres underneath you and a ton of weight bearing down on them. On a pair of skis and nothing to protect you, I’m guessing you feel a touch more ‘vulnerable’.

I’ve skied at (according to someone’s app on his watch/phone/whatever it was) 70kph on a downhill ‘shuss’. I didn’t feel vulnerable so much as unbelievably exhilarated. I have all the ‘style’ whilst skiing that a shark might exhibit at a garden party but I just love speed. And skiing is all about finding your ‘comfort line’ between just in control and ‘oh fuck!’ And how close you want to be to that line.

When you ski fast your main worry is hitting… anything. A mogul, a lump of ice, a patch of ice, a bit of a tree broken off, a whole tree not broken at all. Whereas Mr Record Setter probably had a team of piste polishers out with dustpans and brushes, cleaning and smoothing the necessary kilometres of his run to ensure he didn’t hit lumps, bumps, ice, twigs or, worst of all, any Gwyneth Paltrows that might cause an obstruction.

Because Gwyneths are the worst possible thing a skier can face. Or, if Ms Gloop is to be believed, the worst thing a skier can rear into. Following her testimony yesterday, and guided by the nature of that man’s injuries, there is only one possibly explanation for what happened on the slopes of Sunny Valley, or Happy Valley or wherever it was. That Mr Retired Optometrist was carelessly and selfishly skiing much too fast, backwards, up a slope, at great speed, and collided with a completely innocent Gwynnie coming down. There’s no other way to reconcile her story with the known outcome. So that’s what happened. That opto-bastard! And a chancer to boot. When I first learned of this case my first thought was ‘but would he be taking someone not rich and famous to court?’ But then learning that although she ploughed into the back of him, she maintained that ‘a pair of skis came from behind her and slid outside her skis. Which puts him… well, basically, in her arse. And whilst there are worse places to be, this doesn’t coincide with witness statements or other testimony.

Yet, whoever did what to whom is really all secondary to the fact that following the collision, Gwynnie skied off without a pause. Which is against the rules (you ALWAYS stop after a collision on the slopes, unless its with a French person) and is contrary to any standard of decency.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx