You wonder how he does it. I mean, after yesterday’s race everyone is wondering how to rescue F1 from the grave. And here comes Mad Dick. Bellows into the phone, “Bernie my boy! You did it! I knew you’d come through! That was the greatest race the world has ever seen! And don’t say I’m not grateful. I’m gonna arrange free Virgin Upper Class tickets for you and your wife for the rest of your lives.”
So I say, what the Hell do you mean? The race was boring and there was nothing I could do about it. And besides I don’t have a wife. My beloved Slavika has left me. But if you’d arrange them for me and Fabiana, I wouldn’t mind though. My girlfriend Fabiana, that is. Not my assistant, she flies cattle class. Although for some reason she always seems to get an upgrade.
“Bernie! Have you forgotten? I mean, half the time the cameras were on the back of the field! And don’t tell me you don’t have anything to do with that. I made a quick calculation, we spend 45 million quid this year, divided by 19 races that’s ehh, around 5 million per race I’d say. Well, that was way more than 5 million worth of Virgin advertising. Keep going, old chap. You’re doing fine!”
I decide it’s better not to mention at this point that at the front of the field nothing was happening anyway, so no wonder the cameras got retrained. And I may be a billionaire, but frugality is what got me there. So I gave him the address to send those tickets to, and rang off.