Bartlett, close friend to Caster, writes an open letter to the media.

What would you do if you were Caster Semenya?

Wanna know what I would do?

I would call a press conference…

A big gnarly press conference. I would make sure that all the newspapers and news channels were present.

Fifteen minutes before the press conference I would suck a Strepsil (probably an orange flavoured one. The orange ones are damn delicious). That way my throat would be nice and clear. 

Upon walking out in front of the microphone I would give a good solid “Ahem” just to make sure that my throat really was nice and clear.

I would check the microphone and make sure that the crowd could hear me properly.

I would then read the following speech:

“Dearest Aunty the IAAF,

You guys are pretty shit. I think you should all go and eat hermaphrodite dick.

I’ll take your gender test. But you will sooner lick the sweat off of my pussy lips than have me accept your crap award as an honour.

Have a shit day,

Caster

P.S. To all you kind people in the press… Thanks for keeping my ordeal secret. Now I can walk down the street and no one will know what I’ve gone through.”

 To  Caster,  I couldn’t be more proud of you. You are a whole bunch more patient and polite than I am. Plus I hear that you could kick the crap out of me in the 800m.

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