Ho, ho. I should have commented on this earlier, but it’s been a busy day (deadlines, dentistry, etc.) Nevertheless, it was swell to watch the Schlecks get punk’d by Super Spaniard in today’s supposedly ho-hum stage, one that the official VeloNews Tour de France guide called “straightforward” while picking Thomas Voeckler for the win.

Well, Tommy V won, all right, in that he spent another day in yellow despite finally redlining (world champ Thor Hushovd actually crossed the line first). Cadel Evans did pretty well for himself, too, as did the suddenly audacious Super Spaniard and Sammy Sanchez.

But the Schlecks — especially Andy — stunk up the joint, and had the audacity to whimper about it afterward.

Asked if he had expected Contador to attack, Fränk Schleck replied, “No, not at all.” Super Spaniard had promised as much, and his boss Mr. 60 Percent knew from bitter experience that the Schlecks hate racing in weather that might get their kit dirty, but somehow Fränk missed the memo.

As for the younger Schleck, he spake thusly: “I’m pretty disappointed, but if this is what people want to see, a race decided on a downhill. I don’t think that. A finish like this should not be allowed.”

Oh, to be sure. There should only be uphill finishes, on straight, dry roads, for delicate types who can’t shift, descend or corner in the rain. And any team with a sprinter but no rider in the break du jour should help HTC-Highroad chase the escapees down so they’re not too pooped to line up the old choo-choo and fire the Manx Missile with 250 meters to go.

And attacking for more than 10 pedal strokes at a time should be strictly forbidden unless the attacker immediately begins looking around for his brother. Should he not have one nearby, he must first look for a teammate, and then for a countryman, and finally an excuse.

Back in that ol’ VeloBarrel again. It is a malodorous hogshead indeed, redolent of unwashed kit, pressroom gin and deadline sweat.

But for Jelle Vanendert and Thomas Voeckler, it smells like … like victory.

Vanendert galloped away from an elite group of GC contenders for the stage win in today’s edition of Le Tour, and Voeckler stuck with them to defend his maillot jaune, which is a win by any standard you care to employ, because not even he expected to be in yellow at day’s end.

If there’s any stink attached to the stage, it comes from the smelly feet of the tap-dancing contenders, who didn’t exactly open a 55-gallon drum of whup-ass in the finale. Oh, sure, Andy Schleck had a few tentative digs, as did brother Fränk, but to hear them talk about it afterwards you’d think they were both double Badgers with a side of Eddy Merckx and that everyone was supposed to fall down stone dead the first time they raised their skinny butts off their saddles.

Cadel Evans, who spent the day chasing down everything with a pulse, found them as exasperating as I did.

“The Schleck brothers are there, they ride all day, they’ve got the yellow jersey to gain and they look at me to pull for them? I feel like saying, ‘Hang on a second, I’m not here to tow you to Paris.’ ”

Super Spaniard looked very much like Clark Kentador on today’s stage. No wonder you never see those guys in the same place at the same time. Aw, Craptonite!

Meanwhile, props to Thomas Voeckler for a gutsy ride in defense of the yellow jersey. And who doesn’t want to be Jens Voigt when he grows up?

Good God. If this keeps up the winner of the 2011 Tour de France is liable to be a disembodied head in a glass jar, rolling onto the Champs-Élysées in a Radio Flyer wagon.

Nah. UCI would never go for that. Four wheels, and who knows what’s in that glass jar? Besides a rather battered head, that is.

It wasn’t the upstairs that got torn up on Johnny Hoogerland — it was the basement, thanks to a handy barbed-wire fence that he encountered at speed after a Euro Media car piloted by a mental defective and/or homicidal lunatic clipped breakaway mate Juan Antonio Flecha, who in decking it body-checked Hoogerland through that fence. It was nearly a hat trick, but the guy who would wind up wearing yellow at the end of it all, Thomas Voeckler, managed to keep the rubber side down.

Now, I’m not saying that the driver should have been dragged from his vehicle and had the mortal shit kicked out of him, but … actually, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Ejected from the Tour? Dude should be ejected from the planet, in a 55-gallon drum full of scorpions, broken bottles and an iPod playing “John Tesh’s Greatest Hits” at top volume.

Meanwhile, sounds like the old decreasing-radius turn did for Vino’, Dave Z. and the rest. Having had my own holy-shit moment in one of those broken-backed sonsabitches I can feel their pain, kinda, sorta. But I was alone for mine, not auguring in with a few dozen colleagues, and I managed to stay upright. Jeebus.