Who was pulling the Michelin star meal at Misano 1 and who was stuck between the bog and the bid? Let’s dive into the toilet bowl first to see who drew the royal flush and who had to squat mid-flush to stop the flush on the bowl. We weigh our winners and squatters by the food they put down either on stage or while crushing Imodium.
Gourmets
Who’s eating delicious food at someone else’s expense this weekend?
Mark Marquez
Spain’s Antichrist is on a toilet roll. Not only was it his number two feature race win in as many weeks, but the Catalan dropped the ball and clinched the win right in Valentino Rossi’s backyard. (You know you are near Tavlia when the clock faces have the numbers 9 and 3 turned off and the locals stop at 9.15 and 2.45 every day and cross themselves over and over and say 46 Hail Marys). And just to rub his yellow noses in the dirt, Mark beats Valen’s prosecco-pounding protégé Peco by voice in a feature competition.
Level: Lobster Ravioli 
Frankie Carchedi
There may not be any Brits riding in MotoGP (or now that Crutchlow is only a fully functional body 1, testing MotoGP bikes), but at least there’s one seriously talented British donkey in the premier class. Marc Marquez’s crew chief previously engineered Joan Mir to a World Championship victory with Suzuki, then Fabio turned the Digibox from a fast track to MotoE to MotoGP race wins and now the #93. Equipped with many Ducati race winners. It’s like Frankie MotoGP’s answer to The Equalizer, finding those in need and solving all their problems. (Obviously the old Edward Woodward Achizer rather than Denzel. Frankie Carchedi is great, but let’s not go crazy here.)
Level: White Truffle Taglioni
Pecco banana
You wouldn’t know it from the “well-slapped” expression on his face, but this was a very successful weekend for the drunken, SUV-crashed Italian. Unlike his noisy reaction on Ibiza, Peco is straight and out of the hole. He didn’t win but he reduced the points gap between himself and the championship leader.
Level: Last night the kibble was reheated in the air fryer.
Bidets
Did you spend the weekend pressing your cheek against the porcelain throne between visits to the bidet to “clear the air”?
Joan Mir
In the yearCheck Wikipedia) the former MotoGP champion made the perfectly logical decision to spend a weekend spewing pieces of his digestive tract up his backside instead of riding the Honda RC213V, and who could blame him? Patients in insane asylums have been known to hide pills in their cheeks to fool their doctors, but Joan Mir was the first person to do so with Imodium. A bold choice, but no one in their right mind would do otherwise. (Mir is rumored to need a lung transplant after blowing one of his air-filled organs out of his back and around the U-bend during one of the more powerful explosions.)
Level: Sushi discount, reduced to transparency 
George Martin
It has long been clear that the Spaniard’s mind is a pretty “relaxed state” in his lap, but Jorge’s decision to change bikes was so stupid that even Jack Miller was appalled. (The thunderous roar as he pulled up to the pit lane seemed like an inspired choice for a moment, but that was now “Basso-Profundo” reporter Neil Morrison bursting into the press box, “What the f*** is he doing?”
Level: Week-old, room temperature shellfish in mayonnaise sauce
Frankie Morbidelli
Even when things are going well for the Brazilian-Italian, he always manages to find a way to make things better. He completed a spectacular return to form with a flash from a potential stage presence. On the plus side, this earned him honorary membership in the Lowes Twins.
Level: Hot dogs from an unlicensed street vendor
Dorna
Instead of fixing the problems MotoGP currently has (horrible front tyres, cretins aero-squat rules package and rubbish racing) the governing body has decided to fix something that isn’t even remotely broken by trying to force “sh*te to beach radio”. On the championship. In fact, no one wants this. The fans don’t want it, the teams don’t want it, and the riders certainly don’t want to be elbow-to-elbow with Marc Marquez at a 150 mph kink with a loud boom in their eardrums suddenly shouting “Yellow flags in sector 4!”
Seriously, Dorna, wrap this idea around a big cactus and use it to forcefully plug the exit of your digestive tract.
Level: Pizza from the tourist section of an Italian city. 
