Maranello - the F1 soap opera
Episode Eight
Scene 1 - Bernie's motorhome
BERNIE stands there, transfixed in horror by the
bloodstained carpet.
WIFE: |
(drunkenly) I'm not your goddamned
darli- OH MY GOD! |
BERNIE: |
How the hell did he get in here? |
(BERNIE prods a slumped body on the floor with a
steel-capped toe, rolling it over on to its back. The figure is
of a slightly built man in his forties, his bright blue shirt
almost covered in dark blood and the remains of a mobile phone
still clamped to his ear.)
BERNIE: |
Princess? Did you let this guy in
here? |
BBD: |
Daddy? Did I what- OH MY GOD! |
BERNIE: |
(thunderous) Tell me the truth for
once in your miserable lives! |
BBD: |
I only....(sobbing)...I only
thought he might be able to help me... |
BBD: |
(mutinously)I was going to ask him
if I could be his personal assistant. It'd be better than
being packed off to some Italian convent, and at least
I'd still be close to Jac- |
BERNIE: |
So you lured the poor bastard in
here? And what were you going to do, offer him your body?
In your condition? |
BERNIE: |
Darling, I was going to tell you- |
(She slaps her daughter's face.)
WIFE: |
I bet it's him! It's him, isn't it?
You slept with him and now you're knocked up! |
WIFE: |
My beloved Michael! No wonder he
doesn't want me anymore when he can have a younger,
fresher version of me. |
BBD: |
Fancy Michael? You must be joking.
Give me credit for some taste! |
WIFE: |
You little tart! You've ruined my
life! Who's the father of your little bastard, then?
Ricardo Rosset? Some third-level mechanic from Minardi? |
BBD: |
(sulkily) *You've* got no right to
call *me* a tart! Do you think it doesn't count if you
only do it with world champions? |
WIFE: |
Shut that bitchy little mouth right
now, madam! |
BERNIE: |
Pack it in both of you! For
Christ's sake, we've got a corpse in here, the race
starts in five hours, and you two are arguing like a pair
of goddamned two-bit Nevada prostitutes! |
WIFE: |
So that's why you went to Las
Vegas. So much for holding a Grand Prix there. |
BERNIE: |
Don't I get to have a life, too?
It's not all about money. |
(Suddenly, the collapsed figure on the ground groans and
they all look down at him, shocked.)
BERNIE: |
Get an ambulance! We'll sort the
rest out later! |
Scene 2 - the almost deserted pitlane at
Spa-Francorchamps.
It's approximately 5am on Sunday and most of the
mechanics have gone home, except for the crew at one end of the
row of garages who are sweating through their red t-shirts and
shorts and cursing as they appear to be rebuilding a red car from
its smallest components. A long black limousine pulls up and out
steps MICHAEL, resplendent in long leather coat and shades.
MICHAEL: |
Come back and get me in fifteen
minutes. If I'm not standing here, get Ralf and Eddie. |
CHAUFFEUR: |
Ja, mein Herr. |
(MICHAEL checks to see nobody is watching and unlocks
the front door of his scarlet-painted garage, raising the awning
slowly. Suddenly he jumps back with a cry as a ten-gallon vat of
boiling oil splashes down from a bucket perched on the doorjamb
above.)
(Avoiding the oil with a shimmy of his slender hips,
MICHAEL proceeds through the garage but finds himself having to
dodge the razor-sharp blades that come flashing up from the floor
at random intervals. Sweating visibly, MICHAEL sidesteps them
with agility, and pauses alongside one of the scarlet cars to mop
his brow.
MICHAEL: |
Is he f***ing trying to kill me or
what? (shouting) I'm coming to get you, you bastard! |
(MICHAEL strides forth, only to be distracted by a
rumbling sound. Framed in the doorway to the back of the garage,
he is frozen to the spot momentarily by the sight of a large
stone ball rolling down a track right towards him!)
MICHAEL: |
I don't believe this. I *knew* I
should have got Eddie to come in and test the water
before I tried it. |
(MICHAEL rushes over to a flight of steps and begins to
ascend. As he reaches the top,there is a flash of silver and a
humming sound, and we see that MICHAEL is pinned to the wall, a
razor sharp katana sword pinning him to the wall through the
folds of his leather coat. He looks up and so do we, only to see
DAVID COULTHARD standing atop a platform ahead, wrapped in a
skintight silver-and-black ninja suit.)
DAVID: |
So nice of you to make it to our
little chat, Michael. I've been looking forward to it all
week. |
MICHAEL: |
You should be taken away and dealt
with! None of us are safe while you are on the loose! You
have only one aim in life, and that is to kill me! |
DAVID: |
I don't know what you're talking
about. (He yawns.) |
MICHAEL: |
I'll talk to Bernie. You'll wish
you hadn't done this. |
DAVID: |
What is he going to do? Set up an
extra race at Estoril for you so you can win the
championship? |
MICHAEL: |
Nobody's meant to know about that. |
DAVID: |
Never mind. That's not the point.
You see,I'm not doing this for Mika. |
DAVID: |
No. Mika has his family to help him
out. |
MICHAEL: |
Don't tell me Corinna sent you. |
DAVID: |
(licks his lips) I think you'll
find that Corinna is making her own arrangements for your
demise. Now that she's, shall we say, rediscovered the
delights of a man with proper facial hair... |
MICHAEL: |
That's a filthy lie! She said he
couldn't even - |
DAVID: |
That's enough from you! |
(He walks down the steps to where MICHAEL, still pinned
by the katana, is cowering. With a single fluid movement, he
flicks the sword out of the wall and holds the point under
MICHAEL's chin.)
DAVID: |
No, I'm here on behalf of your
little brother. He's furious with you because he's had to
bail out and go to drive for the Big Guv'nor, just when
things were getting interesting at Jordan, just because
you couldn't keep your nose out of his business. So leave
him alone! |
MICHAEL: |
What the hell does it have to do
with you? |
DAVID: |
(menacingly) I used to work for the
Guv'nor, and he's not a happy man. He wanted Juan-Pablo
Montoya, and now he's going to have to put up with your
snivelling sibling. So watch out - you can't go hiding
behind Max and Bernie's skirts forever! |
(DAVID waves the sword around gratuitously a little
longer,then stalks out of the garage. MICHAEL sinks to the floor,
a temporarily defeated heap of contrition...)
Scene 3 - a few hours later, in the garage of a
well-known auto racing team.
The free practice is over and the race will start soon.A
small figure is sitting in the corner, head in hands, obviously
distraught. HEINZ has an ineffectual hand on his shoulder, trying
vainly to offer comfort.
JACQUES: |
Tell me again how it happened. |
HEINZ: |
I'm not sure exactly.... I just
heard... |
HEINZ: |
Well, David told me, but I think he
got it from the second back-end mechanic at Tyrrell, who
read it on rec.autos.sports.f1... |
JACQUES: |
He was in Bernie's motorhome? |
HEINZ: |
I'm afraid so. He was phoning
someone on his mobile when it just exploded with no
warning. He was badly hurt, but he's going to survive. |
JACQUES: |
I've got to get down to the
hospital. |
HEINZ: |
You can't! Jacques, the race is
going to start in an hour! |
JACQUES: |
Bugger the race! He's my best
friend! |
HEINZ: |
Tell you what. That's the rain
coming on outside - just do a few laps and then at least
you can say you had a go. |
(The BIG GUV'NOR and a couple of MECHANICS wander in.)
TBG: |
Well, you little sod, we've just
about put your car back together. And if you try and do
Eau Rouge flat during the race, we won't bother coming to
fish you out of the tyres this time. |
M1: |
What the hell have you done to your
hair this time? |
JACQUES: |
Can't you work it out? It's a copy
of the hydraulic schematics for the new Mugen-Honda
engine. Damon did it for me in the pub last night. At
least that's what he said it was. |
M2: |
Looks like a load of black and
white mess to me. |
JACQUES: |
You just don't understand
individuality at all, do you? |
TBG: |
(menacingly) I'm not interested in
individuality. I'm interested in points. Get some. Or
else. |
(TBG and the MECHANICS sweep away.)
HEINZ: |
So are you just going to spin off
at lap 23 or something? That'll give you time to get down
to the hospital before the rush hour. |
JACQUES: |
I suppose I'll have to. (He dries
his eyes.) |
HEINZ: |
Just don't take anyone else off, or
the stewards won't let you go. |
JACQUES: |
I don't know how you manage to
remember all this stuff. Anyway, how's it going with you? |
HEINZ: |
Not bad. I think I've managed to
get a job for next season. (blushes) You'll never believe
what I did though. |
HEINZ: |
I actually threatened to (whispers)
blackmail Bernie! |
JACQUES: |
Isn't that a bit of a dangerous
thing to do to your future father-in-law? (chuckles) |
HEINZ: |
It seemed to work. And the greatest
thing is - |
JACQUES: |
You don't have to marry her after
all? |
HEINZ: |
I don't know. But there was another
girl...ages ago... she left me. She said I wasn't
exciting enough for her, but last night she rang me up- |
HEINZ: |
Said she had had enough excitement
for one lifetime, and would I like to go out for a drink
some night? |
JACQUES: |
Are you going to? |
HEINZ: |
Maybe, maybe not. To be honest, I
just want to get through the rest of the season so I can
get my holiday to Disneyland. It's been a nightmare - it
makes me feel all sick and nauseous whenever I think of
all the trouble there's been. Or maybe I've got
sympathetic morning sickness. |
(HEINZ goes pale green and dashes off in the direction
of the gents.)
JACQUES: |
(calling after him) I'm just going
to go and have a word with David and Mika. See you later.
|
(JACQUES sidles out of his garage unnoticed by the
GUV'NOR and taps on the door of the adjacent motorhome.
Inside,DAVID is changing lengthily from his ninja suit to his
Nomex, and Mika is fiddling with his laptop.)
JACQUES: |
Guys! Did you hear about - |
DAVID: |
Yeah. I was just on my way home
from the pub yesterday - I went for a swift half after
qualifying and met in with these Belgian women - and I
went past Bernie's motorhome. They were just loading him
into an ambulance. |
(JACQUES gives a stifled sob.)
JACQUES: |
I can't help but worry. |
DAVID: |
I'm sure he will be fine. |
JACQUES: |
I'm going to get down to the
hospital as soon as I can. Do me a favour and get a clean
getaway, OK? I don't want to have to hang around for any
restarts. |
(He exits the motorhome just as the hooter blows.)
So will the mysterious mobile phone user survive to sue
Vodafone? Will the pain and dysfunction of BERNIE's family be
repaired by long-term intensive therapy? And how will the devious
MICHAEL react to being bested by his taller, blonder adversary?
Answers to all these questions and more....to be continued....
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