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Magnus Cort has had a Tour de France to remember. He was the most popular man in Denmark for a couple of days, spending vast swathes of the opening week in the breakaway hoovering up points for the maillot à pois. On Tuesday’s stage 10 of the Tour came the cherry on top – a stage win in the Alps on the runway at Megève Altiport.
A stage win’s a big deal and Cort was understandably thrilled. Soon after, he was sighted in a team minibus descending into Mègeve past our rustic [read: kind of shit] hotel. He seemed pleased. His moustache twitched blondely as he spoke on the phone, maybe giving an eccentric interview to Danish media, maybe talking to his mum. Maybe both simultaneously, such is the enigmatic nature of Magnus Cort.
What is clearer is that same evening EF Education-EasyPost celebrated with both champagne and singalongs. From the evidence that we have before us, there were no less than six (6) bottles of champagne, at least one six pack of Kronenbourgs for the mechanical staff, along with a stray bottle of red in a garden bed with a cork half plugging it. These are the drinks we know about from a brief flurry of snapshots from embedded photographers Jered and Ashley Gruber. My (entirely unfounded) suspicion is that there were more.
We do not know how many of these drinks were drunk by Magnus Cort and would carry no judgment even if we did. The only documentary evidence is one modest flute of champagne. Nonetheless, Cort was still awake at 2am the following morning with his fingers on a smartphone and an Instagram post in the works.
I say ‘Instagram post’ but really, I mean ‘deranged manifesto’. The coupe de grace is Cort’s claims that he has a harder erection as a result of the team’s partnership with Palace skateboards. This does not, at a gut level, have the ring of truth to it, but it’s something to be celebrated either way. Here’s the thing though – penile performance is a state of mind, and Cort’s mind was evidently in quite a state.
That Instagram post is the first piece of evidence in our swelling dossier of evidence that Magnus Cort has what the kids refer to as ‘Big Dick Energy’.
A second and more compelling document comes in the form of a column by Cort published in BT, a Danish newspaper that you may remember from such hits as their dreadful 1997 Tour de France mix CD. For a solid 75% of the column – titled ‘I’m going to make the helicopter tonight’ – Cort toes a straight and narrow path. He didn’t think that he would win the stage. He is happy that he did. It hurt so much that he got headaches and nausea. We have read such stories before.
The remaining 25% takes things in a rather different direction:
“When I win like this, there is a small ritual … I have to go home in the shower, where I put Rammstein on too full drone. Then Snapchat comes up while I hobble around the room – naked.
So I make the helicopter. It smokes right out to the closest friends, and then they know that the damn thing is going very well.
But that only happens with the big victories. The Tour. The Vuelta. Otherwise, I do not film myself naked while I stand and swing with it.”
This column, written in Cort’s native Danish, requires some leaps of faith in the abilities of Google Translate, and I’ll concede that there may be nuance lost in the margins. Nonetheless, some clear facts remain.
Magnus Cort, when victorious, has a happy shower while blasting the German industrial band Rammstein. That musical ensemble, best known to western audiences from their song ‘Du Hast’ in The Matrix, is not what I would describe as ‘celebratory’ or ‘good’ music, but it clearly hits the Cort cortex in some primal spot that draws his trouser friend into proceedings.
Then, he swings it around like the rotor of a helicopter, a violent circular frenzy of stage-winning Danish sausage. And sends the video via Snapchat to his friends. “It has probably not been much more fun to be Magnus Cort than it is right now,” Cort concluded in his column.
Any questions? No? Didn’t think so.