Vive le Wombat!

Wombat lay in his warm, cosy bed watching 'Le Tour De France'. "I could do that..." he thought to himself as he reached for another Wombat Bar (chock full of tasty wombat goodness). "A bit of training... a few exercises... buy some Lycra... and I'm there." He could see it all.. The crowds cheering, throwing french sticks and fromage, dazzled by his skill, his daring, his speed.....

Wombat, filled with a new motivation (to wear the yellow jersey for Australia) pulled himself out of bed and up onto his exercise bike. The bike (which had been specially modified to cater for his rather short, stocky legs and arms) groaned in protest as Wombat began pedalling. Round and round went his legs and Wombat imagined himself riding in the breakaway group. The peloton bearing down on them at breakneck speed. Tour leaders crashing in front of him - but Wombat skillfully avoiding the mash of flailing arms and legs... He rode harder as he imagined the finish line coming into view.. Sweat pouring down his nose and dripping onto his fur..

Wombat squinted down at the gauges on the bike to see how far he'd ridden. 0.02 kilometers! He'd better slow down! Didn't want to suffer a burn out on his first day of training. Wombat pulled himself off the exercise bike and slumped to the floor where he lay panting, trying to catch his breath. Maybe he could enter a different 'Tour'. There must be smaller countries than France to ride around....