The song of the unloved

In this week's Formula Oats, mercenary knights recount their odysseys and explain how a handful of coins elevated them to a status as noble as royalty.

Banco Felipe has invested a lot of money in Sans-Bière, but he is one of the few mercenary drivers who deserves his place thanks to his undeniable talent. Marcus Personne was also hired by Sans-Bière because he has the means, but he brings no merit.

Roberto Scorie is eager to make his debut at Malaria, even though he is two minutes behind the leaders. Abbot Booth-en-train, rector of Malaria, is also fighting to keep his team afloat, even though it is already twenty thousand leagues under the sea.

Tata Monica is the only female rector in Formula Oats. She is overwhelmed by Sans-Bière's finances and is reduced to seeking out only untalented but wealthy drivers. BANCO FELIPE – “My beautiful bank, oh my steering wheel, have we spent enough among the rich Swiss? Have we sufficiently financed a bucket madly in love?” PASTOR LE FOL – “I sang my knowledge last year without knowing that Luthus, in the guise of a stable that dies tonight, would cry out his grievances tomorrow. ” ROBERTO SCORIE – “One night of drinking in London, a beggar who looked like Father Booth approached me, and the pity he inspired in me made me believe this charming story.” BANCO FELIPE – “My beautiful bank, oh my steering wheel, have we spent enough among the rich Swiss? Have we financed enough for a wildly… ROBERTO SCORIE – “I followed this sad tramp who whistled as he cried; we felt like we were in the middle of a detective novel, two bloodied vagabonds, he as Saint Francis, I as Caesar. ” TATA MONICA – “It was his bourgeois money, his Dior underwear on his bare ass, quick and lively as a squash, but oh so rich and opulent, that could steal my heart.”

MARCUS ERICSSON – “I was leaving Ikea when I came across a miserable woman begging on her knees under the gaze of her accountant, asking me to sign her gibberish.” BANCO FELIPE – “My beautiful bank, oh my steering wheel, have we spent enough among the wealthy Swiss? Have we financed enough for a wildly expensive bucket…”

“Oh my sponsor, oh you who are luminous, green trees of Amazonia and white bodies of the Guarani, dead hunters, oh what a farewell. Look where our ancestors are going; it's the season, come on Marcus, come for a walk in Malaysia. Should I have known that this season smelled of trouble? Let's go back to the Angelus. MONEY (in Despote) – “The dark years have returned, when they embraced the gloomy times, my darkness, locked in constraints, green bills hidden in the shadows. THE COUNT OF MONCET – “I who know the fate of the Helots, the lamentations of our years, the hymns of the slaves to the coyotes, the breakups of the unloved and the songs for the Despot. The Oats are dying, I tremble; I adore these beautiful idols, the memories that resemble them, the buried parades and the farandoles. I am faithful and imploring.” BANCO FELIPE – “My beautiful bank, oh my wheel, have we spent enough among the abundant Swiss? Have we financed enough for a madly loving bathtub?”