Maranello - the F1 soap opera

Episode Five

 

Scene 13 - The garage of a well-known auto racing team after the chequered flag has fallen.

The lighting is dim, and we can only just distinguish two figures: one is slumped semi-conscious on the floor clutching a small silver cup, and the other, tall and lean in a belted leather raincoat, is prodding the figure with a booted toe.

MS: Wake up Eddie, for goodness' sake. I have to go and pick up Ralf in a minute.
EDDIE: Wassup? Whoever you are, go away. I want to die.
MS: You'll get your wish all too soon if you're not careful.

(At the sound of his bloodcurdling tone, EDDIE struggles to a seated position.)

EDDIE: (attempting jocularity) Good day down the salt mines today, eh?!
MS: I'll see you are recompensed for your good service.
EDDIE: I knew I could rely on you. Fuggin' wonderful day today. You were the business and no mistake. Course, I was right behind you, ahead of that bunch of poofs, but no doubt about it, you was the star.
MS: Whatever. Eddie, I think we need to have a chat about brake cables.
EDDIE: Wassat?
MS: Come over to the computer a moment. (distastefully) I presume you can still focus?
EDDIE: Sure.

(They go and sit down at a PC in the corner of the garage. EDDIE pushes a few keys.

EDDIE: Hahahah! Lessee what you got here then! You downloading dodgy pictures off the Web again?
MS: Don't be ridiculous. Eddie! Stop that at once. I'm warning you.
EDDIE: Oooh, what have we got here? A text file eh!? Dirty stories from some Bolivian porno archive?

(reading aloud) '...and the COMPANY will pay the DRIVER the sum of not more than FIFTY MILLION US DOLLARS over a period of...' - what's this?

(MS wrestles the keyboard from EDDIE and in doing so hits a few buttons. A talking duck appears on the screen.)

THE DUCK: You appear to be writing a secret contract with West McLaren Mercedes. Would you like some assistance?

(There is a brief embarrassed silence.)

MS: I hate this new software. How can a mere computer think it knows better than I?
EDDIE: No idea, guv. I mean, it's only a Pentium 233 after all. No comparison to your tactical brilliance at all.
MS: Just leave that anyway. It's none of your business. Look, here I've got the stolen schematics for the MP4-13. Next time, get the brake fluids reservoir. An engine blowout is fine, but we need to keep confusing them.
EDDIE: (scratching head) Brake fluid reservoirs, huh?
MS: You know I rely on you, Edmund.
EDDIE: Sure thing. (pause) So you leaving us then?
MS: (suavely) Don't worry. I'll make sure you're taken care of.
EDDIE: Right, boss.

Scene 14 - The motorhome of a well known auto racing team after the chequered flag has fallen at the end of the Grand Prix.

The motorhome is in darkness but for the soft glow of a computer screensaver, which illuminates a stocky blonde figure slumped in an armchair, face in hands.

JV: (to himself) How could I have done it? In front of everyone? Just when everything was going so well...

(He lets out a strangled sob)

JV: The first time this season I was anywhere near the points, and I make a total fool of myself. What an idiot!

(He scratches his head and sighs deeply.

JV: I just panicked. 'What if I never see him again?' I thought. Like some bad character in a goddamn soap opera. I had to go and talk to him. But he was perfectly all right, thank God, and then I somehow couldn't open my mouth.

(The door opens and HEINZ enters.)

HHF: Still here?
JV: (hastily hiding his box of tissues) Uh-huh. How did it go in the end?
HHF: Fourth. (pause) At least I can go and get some sleep now.
JV: Uh-huh.
HHF: Um, Jacques, I think Frank was hoping to have a word...
JV: I bet I know which one, as well.
HHF: (sitting down beside JACQUES and placing a brotherly hand on his shoulder) So, are you going to tell him why you did it?
JV: I can't.
HHF: Is it something to do with the car? I'd just like to know, you know, in case it happens to mine -
JV: The car's OK. No, the car's fine, don't worry. (pause) Tell me Heinz, have you ever been in love? Really in love I mean, not just lust?
HHF: I think so. But I've never - I mean, I don't really - um, it's all a bit new really.
JV: Tell me about it. I mean, I can't even tell him how I feel about him, even today. I don't even know how I really feel about anything - it's all so new and I don't have anyone to talk to about it.

(He lets out another strangled sob).

HHF: (small voice) Oh.
JV: (attempting strained humour) It's not as if I could really get a sex change. It was tough enough to get away with the hair.
HHF: You'll find someone, just you see. And I really admire you for being, you know, honest and everything. (squeezes his shoulder companionably) Are you going to tell the guv'nor? If you want to make up some story about the car, I'll back you up. He doesn't have to know why you did it.
JV: Sure. Thanks.
HHF: See you then.

(HHF leaves and JACQUES allows himself to subside into heartfelt sobs again for a few moments. Then he stands up, goes over to the medicine chest, and reaches inside for the strong painkillers therein.)

JV: (to himself) Pain pills for my neck strain... for Heinz' back... for the guv'nor's headaches...

(He walks over to the PC and hits the Enter key, The screensaver vanishes and he sits down at the desk to type.)

JV: (to himself) Double-click on the icon... open new document... here we go. Dear Everyone, I am sorry to do this to you but I cannot live a lie any longer, nor can I live in a world without love and hope...

(As he types this, a box pops up on the PC screen with a talking duck in it.)

THE DUCK: You appear to be writing a suicide note. Would you like some assistance?
JV: Fucking machine!

(He slams the keyboard and stands up so violently that he knocks the chair flying.)

JV: (sighing) It's no good - I can't even tell anyone how I really feel. No, I won't leave a note, after all. I'll just let them find me and then they can wonder why I did it, why it all went so wrong for me. They'll never know that I'm not normal - they can go on thinking of me as the happy, eligible bachelor with a different girl at every race. Nobody will understand anyway, so what's the use?

(JACQUES quickly unscrews the tops from the pill bottles and starts knocking them back, aided by the consumption of a litre of Finlandia vodka which he finds in a cupboard.)

JV: I'll use this vodka. It's fitting, after all - *he* was the last person to touch it. I remember that night - the best party of my life, after the Japanese Grand Prix last year. Back when I thought there was still a chance for me...when we both felt sick at the same time and staggered outside and, just for a moment, he rested his head on my shoulder.

(JACQUES continues to take the pills and his shoulders sag as they begin to take effect. Suddenly the screen goes all swirly... - could it be - is it - a dream sequence?)


Scene 15 - The balcony of a country house, looking out on to the extensive landscaped gardens.

A few unsteady figures are playing a game of croquet and a few white-clad nurses push wheelchairs around the tree-lined paths. It's a beautiful day. We turn round to see a wizened old figure, almost bald, wearing a scarlet cardigan, scarlet tracksuit bottoms and slippers in the same extravagant red. He is covered by a lap blanket which is monogrammed simply with the word 'Ferrari'.

OLD BALD BLOKE: What time is the race on?

(OBB turns round and we see his view - a similarly ancient gentleman with a few wisps of blonde hair adhering to his rounded skull. He's also clad in red, albeit a slightly different shade, and a pair of coke-bottle specs are perched on the end of his inquisitive nose. His blanket bears the legend 'Winfield Williams BMW, F1 World Champions 2023' and his t-shirt is adorned with egg yolk stains and a picture of a man skiing down an Alpine slope.

OBB2 Don't know. Why? Do you want to be reminded of your glory days?
OBB: My glory days were considerably more glorious than yours, my friend.
OBB2: For sure, that's a matter of opinion.
OBB: Think, for example, of my splendid turn into the Hill chicane at the Singapore Grand Prix of 2008, my last race for Sauber before I retired as the world champion for the eighth time.
OBB2: (mimicking) Think, for example, of your splendid spin at Copse in the British Grand Prix of 2007, when you finally got thrown out of Ferrari and had to go and drive for Sauber again.
OBB: (snorts) I would be less smug if I were you, my friend. You were only champion twice, and now you cannot even win the egg and spoon race at the nursing home sports day.
OBB2: (childishly) At least I don't glue my egg on to the end of my spoon.

(The two glower at each other. There is a pause.)

OBB: Fancy another go then?
OBB2: At what?
OBB: You know perfectly well at what. The roof garden challenge.
OBB2: Not if you're going to try and shove me off the edge again. For sure, I thought that was the end of me.
OBB: Let's just get on with it.
OBB2: OK, OK. Can we get Damon to cover for us again? You know what the nurses will do if they catch us.
OBB: Ja, ja, I know what the nurses will do. (fakes high-pitched feminine voice) Now then, Mr Schumacher, careful there, we don't want you to hurt yourself now do we? Not a racing driver any more, ha ha, time to take it easy and have a nap before lunch...
OBB2: Sometimes I think it would have been a whole lot easier just to throw myself off a mountain than endure years of this.
OBB: I know. Still, at least Giancarlo is coming for a visit next weekend. Maybe he'll bring us a new driving game for the holodeck.
OBB2: Is that really all we have to look forward to?
OBB: That and death, my friend.

(There is a pause. Creaking wheels are heard and an extremely elderly gentleman, still with a good head of white hair and a dignified bearing, rolls himself in slowly.)

OBB: Ah, Damon. Can you stay beside the door to the roof again?
DAMON: What's it worth?
OBB2: We won't make any more jokes about that wheelchair being the fastest thing you've ever driven.
DAMON: OK, OK, I'll keep cave. Just be careful. I'm fed up of people driving their wheelchairs dangerously through this home. We should all get together and make sure we all wheel them down the corridors as safely as possible.
OBB: Let's get on with it.

(The three inch their way along the corridor to the roof entrance, faces set with grim determination. They use the lift to ascend to the roof and, once there, position themselves at the start near some attractive bonsai trees.)

OBB2: When the red light goes out above the lift, OK?
OBB: OK.

(The red light goes off and, with much puffing and effortful noises, the two inch their way along the side of the roof. DAMON shouts encouraging noises from the doorway. All of a sudden, as they take the first corner near the delphiniums, OBB reaches a withered hand out to the nearside wheel of OBM2's wheelchair and tips it over.)

OBB2: No! Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

(As we see OBB2 topple, as if in slow-motion, over the side of the roof, the screen goes all wobbly again....we're back to 'real' life!)


Scene 16 - In the garage of a well-known auto racing team back at the circuit.

All is activity, with mechanics packing up gear and chatting amongst themselves. THE GUV'NOR sits at a desk at the back, poring over the screen of his laptop.)

THE BIG GUV'NOR: (to himself) ....mmmhh....' and then did drive without due care and attention into the path of...'

As he types this, a box pops up on the PC screen with a talking duck in it.)

THE DUCK: You appear to be writing a protest to the FIA. Would you like some assistance?
TBG: Oh, for God's sake.

(A MECHANIC comes rushing up to him in agitation.)

MECHANIC: Guv! Guv! It's Jacques! You'd better come quickly!
TBG: What now?
MECHANIC: Dunno, guv. There's lots of pill bottles lyin' around, and 'e seems to be screamin' sumfink like 'Don't throw me off the roof! Don't throw me off the roof!' over and over again. Looks like 'e's tried to top 'imself.
TBG: Dear God, no. Not at this point of the season. Even Jos the Boss has been snapped up by now. I'll end up with Jan bloody Magnussen.
MECHANIC: I called the ambulance, guv. I don't think it's been that long since 'e took 'em. 'E's a strong lad, our Jacques. 'E'll be all right.
TBG: He'd better be. Or I'll sue his ghost for breach of contract.

(THE GUV'NOR propels himself to the door of the motorhome. Just as he arrives, DAVID COULTHARD comes sauntering up in a skimpy t-shirt. DAVID heads straight for the coffee vending machine and punches a few numbers in, but cannot seem to get his drink out.)

DC: Christ, I can't even get a proper cup of coffee round here. Ah, here we are. (A small drip of coffee drizzles into the cup).
MECHANIC: Better have another try.
DC: OK. By the way, what's going on with the ambulances?

(Before the MECHANIC has a chance to answer, JACQUES lurches out of the motorhome, down the steps, and vomits copiously all over DAVID's shoes.)

DC: Shit! Shit! What the hell's going on here?
JV: Urrrrggghh....woooarrrrgh.....wassup.....wassamatter....don't throw me off the roof! No! No!

(He passes out on the ground. Two MECHANICS run up and carry him off to a waiting ambulance. DC shrugs and heads for a nearby hose to wash off his shoes, but only a trickle emerges from the tap.)

DC: So can't I get a decent cup of coffee round here at least?

 


Scene 17 - The aft toilet of an aeroplane. By the lavish fittings and monograms, we see it's BERNIE's private jet. BERNIE'S BEAUTIFUL DAUGHTER is standing by the sink, gazing at herself in the mirror.

BBD: I do not believe this.

(She looks down at the small plastic wand she is holding in one hand. A blue stripe can clearly be seen.)

BBD: How many times have I done this? Why does it have to be wrong *this* time?

(There is a rapping at the door of the toilet.)

BERNIE: Princess, are you all right in there?
BBD: (hastily) Yes, Daddy, just putting on some more make-up.
BERNIE: Ah, Sweetheart, you're beautiful just as you are.
BBD: (giggling in a grotesque parody of amusement) Sure, Daddy! I won't be a minute, OK!

(to herself) Goddamnit! How could I have been so goddamn dumb! What the hell am I going to tell Daddy?

(Theme music fades in...)

 

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