No idea how she got my number, but there she was. Said she’d watched our Tea Party from her house, and that it was really time for us to Man Up. Apparently she couldn’t bear the sight of two dozen manly men, huddling under umbrellas and waiting for the rain to stop in order to go about their business.
Ms Palin, I said, first of all it was not a Tea Party. It was a race. A Formula One Grand Prix at that. And second, it was in Korea. I don’t think you could see it from your house, because Japan is kind of sitting in the way.
“Mr Ecclestone,” she says. (I hate it when people call me that. It’s either Mr E, or Bernie if I know you.) “Mr Ecclestone, don’t try to catch me out like all those socialist media wussies. Many tried and it’s getting old. When I say I can see it from my house that’s proverbially speakin’. And what I do see is what your people say on Twitter. Or actually, my people see that. I try to stay away from it because by gollie, there’s always sumtin’ going wrong when I do it myself.
“And I’ll be gosh darned if I’ll Continue reading