Our US network TV producer is now fully embracing his newly found love – 3 weeks old – of all things F1. He has now a team of writers working on his new baby, as he realises his audience know nothing of a global sport with half a billion viewers because it occurs predominantly outside of the good ‘ole US of A.
The network creatives are scribbling night and day producing realms of copy in frenzy of characterisation creations, dialogue re-writing and stage directions. Unemployed Japanese ex F1 driver Taki Inoue has been retained to add realism and technical knowledge to the team.
For those who at times struggle understanding the difference between reality and fantasy, this is a SOAP OPERA. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
F1 Days of our Lives
Brought to you by TJ13 Courtroom Drama and Gossip columnist: Mattpt55
Edited and revised by TJ13 Editor in Chief
Days of our F1 Lives:Season 1, Episode 3
Cut to interior of helicopter in the midst of violent maneuvering, Jean Todt, surrounded by a bevy of interns, clearly in a bad mood. Suddenly Todt in Gallic high dudgeon, grabs one of the interns by the shirtfront…
Todt (screaming, flecks of spittle flying from his mouth, in the manner of a Highly Entitled Person Being Denied what they Want): Where are my escargot drenched in wine and butter?!!! I told you to have them prepared for me as we boarded to leave, to celebrate us bringing unprecedented safety to the roads of Afghanistan with our Global driving awareness campaign!! I want them now!!!!!
Fresh-Faced Intern : We.. we really tried, it’s just that… that sort of thing isn’t available locally. (believing he is rescuing the situation, he blurts out) I did pick up some goat jerky in case you got peckish…
Todt: IDIOT!!! You should have had them flown in from Paris, like we always do!!!
FF Intern: But our radios haven’t been working since we left Paris. Honest
Todt (ignoring the explanation): Now give ME the radio and I will show you how to work it properly since I must clearly do all the things myself
(Cowering intern stretches his arm to full length holding out the transmitter device. It is clearly marked RIEDEL Communications. Todt fiddles and it immediately emits an awful, ear piercing shriek. Cursing, he begins vigorously twisting the knobs and a shower of sparks bursts from the back of the unit. He launches the device out of the open window cursing in French).
Todt (apoplectic now): IDIOTS!! I told you to go and get something decent for our personal use not the garbage I foisted on F1 (thinks to himself – ‘though I did make a nice profit on the stocks when the deal was announced’)
Todt: (to VB intern) give me your phone..
VB Intern (horrified, stammers): Bbbb…uuuu…tttttt the data roaming charges…
Todt: To be successful you must make sacrifices (dials out) ….one case live to be flown to St Petersburg, yes and some caviar and since I will be receiving an award and greasing the palms of, errmm meeting with local FIA delegates. Let’s add a Millenium of Armand de Brignac….No, No, put it on the FIA account.. Business Expense.. (to interns) how long to Russia?? Not even the reputation of Napoleon will rival my triumphs….
(Manic cackle of a disturbed and pyschotic mind glorying in his non chemical sanitary unit – otherwise known as a Water loo)
(Crazed laughter dissolves and we cut to a deep underground bunker somewhere in Milton Keynes. Adrian Newey, is alone in a room utterly devoid of sound and full of blinky twinkling lights, perched over very complicated looking drawings, with spreadsheets full of numbers littered around him).
(Suddenly one of the screens issue a constant beep and we catch a glimpse of the monitor which is open at the page “Top Gear Car Chooser”)
Newey (cursing under Breath): Toyota Camry again??!! I swear…
(The gentle clicking and whiring of devices is quickly banished by the shrill ring from the RB9 shaped telephone on Newey’s desk. On the screen – which is in the steering wheel – we see the letters JC appear).
Newey: Jezza you old dog!!!
Jeremy Clarkson: Been poking about on our site have you
Newey: Yes, how did you know? And why a Camry??!!!
Clarkson: (Muses and drawls) I see everything there is to see… know everything there is to be known… and regularly remind the world of these facts. (he picks up the tempo now and sounds quite perky). So where is your car Ade baby?
Newey: (grunts a little petulantly) The repair shop
Newey: Being Mended
Newey (takes a short breath and replies innocently): I swear that tree came out of nowhere
Clarkson: And what kind of insurance do you have on the rental
Newey: Bring it back in a Bag of course
Newey: Because I’ve learned my lesson the hard way. They keep finding dings and dents that I swear weren’t there when I took the car. I’m sure they just forgot to note them down though.
Clarkson: Admit it Ade, you’re a crap driver and you know it. That’s why you get Camry’s
Newey (laughing): OK..ok you got me there, but I’m not going to quit any time soon.
Clarkson: That’s the spirit!! Now, did you get those new drawings I sent.
Newey: (Studiously) Yes I did….. but I’ve spent the whole morning looking at them and I can’t understand exactly how this is supposed to work.
Clarkson: (In a superior manner he rattles off his explanation) Simple, really Ade… design cantilevers in the suspension arms from titanium. Fire the heat from the brakes in this direction and they flex at relatively low temperatures. This will create an active ride effect which the scrutineers cannot spot, as the arms will be rigid by the time they return to parc ferme cooled.
This should generate enough downforce to make up for those hopeless Italian tires you are stuck with. Just make sure you spec the unalloyed commercial titanium, not the alloys.
It’s the Gordon Murray principle of running illegally ride heights whilst on track, but being perfectly legit when the FIA check the car.
Clarkson: (Lost by his own ramblings he forgets what he was saying, but remembers he said the ‘word’ Italian – he continues his monologue) By the way Ade, have you ever worn Italian shoes? I have. Bloody useless and expensive. They cost me 500 Quid and didn’t last two weeks… and your feet hurt for a month afterwards.. anyway Moroccan is the way forward for me. They know they’re shoes do those lads from the desert.
Newey (laughing): Christ you’re really are a crazy old bastard… (more serious) Anyway. Thanks again for the advice.. I know you have been the inspiration for most of my major breakthroughs, but I still don’t get why you just don’t quit the silly car show and take my job. I could then get on with sailing. As it is I’m stuck here till we land 5 Constructors titles, or I have to give all the money back I’ve ever had from Marko and Dieter. Speaking of cash, where should I send your “commission?” (mutters) Still don’t see how this alloy component could possibly be legal.
Clarkson: (Bombastic) It’s not entirely. And just buy me a pint at a pub where no one will recognize either of us. I own half of the world’s most popular TV show and I get paid to be on it. I’m not exactly hurting in the worst global economic meltdown ever.
Newey: I’m not sure about this Jezza, it seems unsporting, you know I hate that
Clarkson: You always have, even though you “lent” me that term paper you abandoned at Repson when you switched topics. That kept me from getting the boot… and I knew right then Ade, you were a proper bloke. That’s why I have always “looked out” for you, because you looked out for me. Besides, I enjoy the challenge of being the world’s best aerodynamicist whilst everyone thinks I’m just a bigoted, loud mouthed fool.
Newey: (whimsically) If only people knew the real story…
Clarkson: They wouldn’t believe it anyway. I’ve been characterised as buffoon on the telly far too long for anyone to believe different, no matter what we tell them
Newey: (still worried about the legal nature of the new component design) I don’t know about this, I’ve never done anything like this before…
Clarkson: D’ya think Brawn hesitated before he ran that test with Pirelli, come on man, there’s only one rule left in F1 and that’s don’t get caught till after you’ve won. The FIA are a joke, Bernie’s going down hill fast and will probably plead insanity to get off in Munich, the only law left is what you make yourself. Just make sure the drivers go slow enough to cool the suspension before scrutineering, otherwise you might have some explaining to do.
Newey (laughing bitterly): Yeah right. Fat chance of getting either one to do what they’re told at this point.
Clarkson: Trouble in the Extreme Motor Coach?
Newey: It’s like “Footballers Wives” on meth these days
Clarkson (laughing): How so?
Newey: You’ve got Vettel doing his best imitation of a surly teenager that he was never allowed to be, Webber has still got a huge chip on his shoulder about Malaysia, we have to be careful with strategy not to let them get to close to each other on track. Every time I walk by Horner’s office all I hear is weeping and the sound of objects being tossed round… Marko has always been a loose cannon and now I think Mateschitz is totally losing it.
Newey: Yes, his latest idea is that all the staff must participate in an hour of extreme activities a day. You should see it, all these middle aged engineers trying to do flips off of bikes and skateboard down stairs. I tell you, at least 7 of my senior staff are in hospital at the moment, incapable of working. Of course, the interns that are replacing them are at least coming up with some different ideas…
Clarkson: Silver lining then
Newey: Not necessarily, it takes them 3 times as long to get the mundane tasks accomplished. Why do you think we almost didn’t get that wing to Monaco…I’ll tell you why, our senior logistics VP was busy having his teeth put back in by an oral surgeon after he faceplanted trying to do a backside McTwist in the skatepark on his mandatory extreme time.
Clarkson (shoulders heaving, dissolves into a stereotypical laughing fit): Just try the part in FP1, it’s hopelessly legal then, and if you change your mind take it off.
Newey (mostly convinced): I’ll think on it
Clarkson: You do that, meantime, I’ve had a look at those sailboat plans you sent round, I’ll be getting back to you soon with some “suggestions”. Just keep your head down, you’ll be done with Red Bull in two year’s time with my help and I’ll be done with the show. I’m looking forward to a nice calm sail with a lot of ale, and some good stories to tell. Oh, and I’ve got Captain Slow working on an Anthem that’ll make Ferrari’s look as bad as Salieri did when juxtaposed to Mozart. Tell them you did it in your spare time….. Later
Newey: Thanks Jezza, Later (Clicks to disconnect. Dials by spinning the steering wheel) Get me fabrication…What, what do you mean you don’t know the extension… You’re not the regular.. What happened to, oh never mind, I’ll just take the plans there myself (Exits room with Clarkson’s plan)
Cut to interior Lotus Motor Home. The walls are bare, but there is a surprising collection of ceramics on shelves, along with very nice floral displays in vases. Eric Boullier, wearing a green visor, sits by a banker’s lamp, poring over figures of columns. He shakes his head, rubs his eyes and pinches his nose and heads to the refrigerator. Upon opening the door, he is greeted by the forlorn sight of one olive, half a mouldy sandwich, and a single leaf of wilted lettuce, brown around the edges. A knock at the door sends him scurrying back to his figures, which he hastily grabs and shoves into a drawer. Just as he slams it shut, the door opens…..
To Be Continued
N.B. no interns or snails were harmed (permanently and or physically) during the filming of this episode