To Be Or Not To Be (on the grid)

Bahrain is weeks away now, and rumours around the new teams and their chances of making the grid are reaching fever pitch. So let me clarify a couple of things now, before speculations get out of hand.

First of all, no it’s still a question if the whiny Spaniards at Campos are going to make it, although their wooden model looks good, especially with young Senna in it. And no, I haven’t sabotaged their deal with my old friend Gian Paolo Dallara although I must say it was tempting and it certainly wasn’t easy for Goran to keep Stefan’s Vlad the Impaler from going out there on his own. I believe he finally convinced Vlad to just send them a dead fish. These blokes love old mafia movies, for some reason. Boys will be boys, I guess.

As to all the speculations about who’s going to save their thin Spanish skins, it may happen but it certainly ain’t gonna be me. I know there’ve been rumours about me stepping in with Volkswagen and if you wonder where those ludicrous ideas came from: it was me, personally. It was what I call one of these ‘waterproof’ tests. We had a leak somewhere and the trick is to feed them something that no one’s ever thought of and then see what happens. Let me just say that Goran and his men’ve paid the bloke a visit and we won’t be hearing any more from him.

Next, US F1. Shown here is a photo of their workshop and it’s the closest to racing they’ll ever get, I tell you. These blokes are genuinely pathetic. Even that Chad Hurley, the chap from HooTube or whatever it’s called, has pulled out. Peter Windsor doesn’t even dare call me any more. Either that, or he’s too busy manning the entrance booth in order to at least get enough money to pay for the office stationery.

Which leaves Lotus and Virgin. And Stefan, of course, but don’t tell anybody yet. That’s where the good news is, professional outfits who have their act together. Although, good news… My phone’s ringing. I can tell it’s Sir Big Swinging Dick Branson because I’ve asked my assistant to put in some special ringtones so I could recognise callers I want to avoid. Bloke’s been a wee bit naughty and stuck in some orgasm sounds for Sir Dick. Ah well. Duty calls.

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