He wants back in. Seems after two exciting races Mr I’m-a-Buffoon-So-What? has come to the conclusion that F1 has become interesting enough for his personal involvement again. Says he’s getting fat and flabby and he needs some exercise. I tell him I’ve no idea what he means. He’s been fat and flabby as long as I can remember. He says yes, but it’s getting worse. Elisabetta’s started to complain. ‘Personally I think look good, but, you know, women…’
Word of advice, Flavio, I said. You and I go back quite a long time, and you know I’ll personally support any comeback you get into your thick head. But with that in mind I aired the idea a couple of days ago, with the same result as airing one of those deeply satisfying farts after one of your giant Italian business lunches. Makes you feel good but sends everybody else running for the trenches.
Listen, I know you don’t care a single bit for what the rest of the world thinks. But I had a quick word about you with Jean Todt and the thought alone makes him reach for a twelve gauge shotgun. ‘Flavio must be punished,’ he keeps saying. Sounds a bit like Max, maybe, but he means it. Keeping F1 Briatore-free seems to be part of the job description at FIA these days. Do me a favour, Flavio, and stay out of his sights for a while.
Flavio sighed and said yes Bernie, I’ll think it over, and rang off.
I know better. Thinking is not his strong suit. Mark my words, we haven’t heard the last of this.