What is it with these flippin' foreigners?

I know that many of you are under the impression that us elite athletes are rolling in money. There's our lottery funding, elite athlete grants, sponsorship and the odd bung for 'losing a shoe' and not winning a race. But I tell you something, this kiddie here is struggling in that respect. For some reason the lottery chaps haven't been given the nod to pay me by the Olympic team chaps, the elite athletes programme people now refuse to answer my letters and seem to think I'm some kind of nutter - and as for taking a bung - well, chance would be a fine thing.

The bottom line is, that I'm skint. A problem that wasn't made any easier when, after taking the decision to focus on Olympic glory and assuming that I'd be a shoe-in for the Elite Squad, I promptly told my boss to stick his job where the sun doesn't shine. And for some reason he wasn't too keen to let bygones be bygones when I enquired after my old position. I apologised to his wife and daughter and I even offered to clean the bits of carpet I'd damaged during what has become known in the factory as Ron's Resignation Rant - but no deal. So, I'm left to eke out a living where I can. Whilst, naturally, trying to get as many freebies and jollies as I can.

And that's how I found myself - quite conveniently again - in that fine Belgian city of Bruges. Culture, Museums, Christmas Markets, Chocolate stores, fine lace and, of course, the best beer in the world. You can find all these in the City of Leffe. But I was there because my mate Buttocks wanted a few hundred Bennies - and at £2.50 a pack it was a good enough deal to persuade me to go and earn some dosh for the kids Christmas pressies.

Now rattling all the way to Bruges in the back of Transit isn't a lot of fun so I decided to liven up the day with a couple of snifters in the local bars and indulge in my love of Leffe. (Incidentally, don't worry, the training is off the agenda until next week - I've decided it's a rest week. Sorry. rest fortnight). Anyhow, after shifting half a dozen of Belgium's finest I decided to try and find the Half Share in the House a peace offering for upsetting the Vicar last week (long story - don't go there - and I'm not homophobic either). Off I trundled into the Christmas Market - only to find it stuffed full of wooden sheds flogging ..... more booze. So I thought it rude not to at least taste the stuff .... and that's where my day kind of went south again.

Next door to the beer hut was a coconut shy and after spending 220 euros I finally won one of the blessed things. I think that the police were first called when I tried to break the darned thing open. Even now I insist it looked like the kid was wearing a crash helmet but it turned out to be one of those continental hair styles much loved by the Germanic nations. Admittedly, the kid did squeal a bit and put out quite a bit of unneccessary noise but I didn't really take much notice of him. I was far too interested in devouring my newly opened coconut.

And do you know? The strangest thing happened. All the birds in the town square flocked to my feet and began pecking away at the bits of coconut on the floor. It was marvelous display of bird life - there were rooks, pigeons, tits, some seasonal robins and a couple of other species that must be in the Observer Book of Birds.

At this point, I was so overjoyed at this wonderful display of nature that I'd failed to notice the two coppers standing either side of me - one male and one female. The kid must have ratted on me. I looked at the lady copper - a pretty young filly admittedly - and I swear all I said to the male copper was 'Tits like coconuts'. What I meant was that the birds eating my coconut seemed to enjoy it ... well, whatever. He thought I was passing opinions on the size of his colleague's Blairs.

Anyway that was it. I was whisked away, had Buttocks' fags confiscated and politely pointed in the direction of the Transit. And the Exit strasse from Belgium.

Honestly. Some people.

Anyway, my week ahead isn't that exciting. I'm now having to find a few bob to make it through to Christmas and that means going back on the stump with my mate Handy. He's a one-armed window cleaner and I ring out his chamois for him.

Such is the life of an elite athlete eh?

Keep on tapering.

Ron