Tomerton Village

After weeks of training i was ready. i knew the course like the back of my hand. There was only one serious rival, and i had his mark. First prize in The Tomerton Dash would be mine. Arriving on the day, i collected my race bib and moved to the change rooms. It was here i first caught glimpse of my competitors. A scruffy bunch of chancers. And he, Gordon Goodney. I gave a terse greeting. Peculiarly, as i dressed, all the others disappeared into the one toilet cubicle together - from where i heard scraping and snorting sounds. I assumed this was race nerves, and felt even more confident in myself. Shortly after, they all tumbled out, behaving most oddly. Davey Ravey kept waving his hands in the air (almost as if he was dancing to some imagined hypnotic music). Gary Gurner was chewing furiously and kept sipping from a bottle of sports-pop. Barth Whitey really wasn't well. But Goodney himself was looking pepped, focused, ready to race. At the starters gun, we were off. I expec...