Tag Archives: Fabiana Flosi

Max Mosley called. Was he worried?

No. All he wanted to know was “Did it hurt? and “Did you enjoy it?”

Not that he wasn’t polite or anything. “I do feel for you, Bernie,” he said. “And Fabiana too. In fact, I feel for you so much that I’m going to honour you with a role play in my dungeon. I was getting tired of those prison guards anyway. Tried leather clad tax auditresses for a while but it’s almost as boring as doing your taxes. This’ll definitely provide a bit of variety. So thanks, both of you, for the inspiration. Get well soon.”

Great. Now we’re a role play in Max’s dungeon. I can just picture him wearing a naff suit and having his earrings ripped off by a female mugger in a Victoria’s Secret bra and a leather harness. Argh.

Don’t worry, I’m alive and kicking

OK, I was mugged. It happens to the best of us.

I know, I know, I said not so long ago that muggers tend to look for the soft and not too bright, but I was mainly needling Jenson, wasn’t I? I mean, the lad needed a bit of a prod to keep him in the running for the Championship, that was all. And I did apologise.

And let’s face it, I did say that mugging was more common in central London, didn’t I? Did I hit the nail on the head with that one, or didn’t I?

Personally I’m not easily affected by four losers going after a watch and some jewellery. If you’re used to the shenanigans in the F1 world, a simple mugging just looks like child’s play. But it’s a bloody shame it had to happen to my beloved Fabiana as well, and right outside my front door, too. Poor girl, women really react badly to things like this. And I just wished The Sun wouldn’t’ve highlighted the bit about the 200,000 quid’s worth. That was for the insurance, not for the press.

Goran

Anyway, the Yard’s Robbery Squad has announced they’re hot on the trail of the blokes who did it. Apparently we weren’t the first ones to be given the once-over.

I can only say one thing to you, muggers: if I were you I’d really, really hope that Scotland Yard got to you first. Because I’ve put Goran, my Head of Security on the case. Goran (pictured here in his favourite pose) learned a lot of interesting techniques during the Balkan wars and he’s been complaining about getting rusty lately. Told me he badly needs some practice.

So pray, morons. Pray that the Yard finds you first.

The report of my retirement was an exaggeration

This is ridiculous. I haven’t posted on my blog for a week or two and promptly I need to deny rumours of my death or retirement. Which in my case is synonymous, if you missed my interview with Bild am Sonntag.

It’s actually quite funny, if you have my sense of humour. The krauts’ headline was actually ‘Bernie reveals his new love’ but apparently the English media were more obsessed with reports of my death. Which were an exaggeration, as the famous English poet Mark Twain said.

“I’d die if I retired,” headlined Autocar. Their German isn’t that good apparently, because what I actually said was “To retire means to die” as Crash.net and most of the others blurbed. There’s a difference, you know.

But anyway, the most important message is out: I’m very much alive, thank you. Alive and kicking around with my newfound love Fabiana. And this may sound complicated to many of you, but no it’s not this Fabiana. I keep private and work strictly separate. Although it’s convenient that they have the same name, of course.