Down and Out With Damon Hill
The pit garage of an Irish team. The former world champion is at the back of the garage with a mobile telephone. He is talking to his wife.
Hill: What do you mean, don't bother coming back. I promise never to pick up the guitar again.
Wife: I wish you had won a race every time you said that, you would be better than Michael!
She hangs up on him. Ralf wanders over. He is wearing a yellow race suit with holes in the knees and his boot laces are undone.
Ralf: How the fuck are you Damon?
Hill: A little upset. We can't score points for toffee and the missus has kicked me out. But that's motor racing.
Ralf: Syd Watkins can probably let you have some elastoplast. I'm always borrowing some.
Hill: No, she has not kicked me with her foot! She wants me to move out of the house.
Ralf: That's terrific! Me and Michael have no friends and the neighbours avoid us. You can live with us.
Mika Hakkinen walks into the garage looking confused.
Mika: Anyone seen a tortoise around here?
Hill: Yes, it overtook me around becketts.
Mika: Thanks (Leaves)
The boss, EJ, walks up and taps Ralf on the shoulder.
EJ: We've repaired the damage on your car, again, would you like to see if you can make it to club corner in this lap?
Ralf: Did you find the steering wheel?
EJ: Yes, Giancarlo found it under the rear wing of his Benetton. How did you manage it?
Ralf: Natural talent, like my brother's doesn't come easy, you've either got it or you aint.
Hill: (Looking much happier all of a sudden) ...And Ralf baby, You aint even close.
Everyone laughs...Except Ralf, who trips over his laces and bites his lip.
Michael and Ralf's apartment in Monaco. Michael is treating his athlete's foot in front of a videotape of The Very Best of Richard and Judy, a present from Eddie Irvine. Ralf opens the door and walks in, followed distantly by Hill. Hill is barely visible behind a tower of suitcases.
Ralf: Guess what I've got for you, Iron Balls...A friend!
MS: Cool, I've always wanted one of them, I had one at Benetton in 1992, but I broke him...What was his name...Martin, I remember. He beat me in a race, so I had him sacked.
Hill: Hello Michael.
MS: Oh look its the postman.
Ralf: No, this is our friend.
Hill puts a case on the floor
MS: He looks a bit familiar, The yellow trousers are the sort of thing Eddie Irvine wears...Cheap and nasty.
Ralf: Let me help you with those...
(he stumbles and knocks damon and the cases down the steps onto the street.)
Hill: Shouting up the steps I'm OK, I'm getting used to this sort of thing now.
Hill staggers back in with blood pouring from his nose.
Hill: Anyone got a hanky?
MS: Is that my friend?
Ralf: Let me show you your room. There is only one bed, you'll have to share with me and Michael. Flavio used to enjoy it, specially when he gave me a few quid to go to the pictures.
MS: Well I suppose it would be nice to have a friend. Especially one who cannot beat me in a racing car. And you have no chance at Jordan. You should have stayed at Arrows.
Hill: Shut up...Just shut up OK?
Ralf takes Damon by the hand and heads towards the bedroom. He bumps into Michael and the three end up in a heap on the floor.
MS: Let's establish the house rules.
1: No birds. Corrine goes ape shit.
2: No eating crisps in bed. It wakes me up and I need my beauty sleep, you ask Heinz-Harald.
3: No smoking
4: No picking your nose and wiping it on the sheets. It's a bitch to get out. That include you too Ralf, you dirty sod!
5: Most important of all, no matter what, do NOT let Eddie Irvine in, he is a drunken pain in the arse.
As Michael says this, the door bell rings. Eddie Irvine's eyes can be seen peering through the letterbox.
MS: Its Eddie again, get down.
Eddie: Now looking through the window, banging the glass for all he's worth
Cooee, Mickey, Can I borrow a pint of Guiness?
Hill: Why are we hiding?
Eddie: Who's that behind the sofa?
MS: You berk, Damon, he saw you.
Ralf: (Tripping over the sofa) No it was me he saw, I had a little accident. Anyone seen my spare pants?
MS: (Opens the front door) Come in Eddie, I didn't hear the door. (Scowls at Damon and Ralf). Help your self to a can of stout. (whispers) you drunken bum.
Mika Hakkinen pokes his head around the door
Mika: Anyone seen a tortoise round here.
All: Piss off
Eddie: Pulling a tortoise out from under his hat
Anyone know what this is, I found it trying to steal my pint.
MS: Now do you see what I meant, Damon?
Hill: I get the gist, yes.
Ralf: Hey, Eddie, can I have a look at that shell thing?
Eddie: Starting to slur his speech Sure...It'll cost you a Murphys
Ralf goes to the fridge and takes a can out, which he drops on the floor. The can rolls across the room and Eddie picks it up. Eddie shakes the can vigorously for five minutes, cackling some nonsense then throws it back to Ralf. Ralf, to everyones surprise catches it. He then walks up to Eddie and swaps it for a tortoise. Eddie opens the can with a smile across his face like a four year old on Christmas morning. The contents of the can spray in Eddies face. Everyone cracks up laughing at him.
Ralf: Is this a terrapin? I'll toss it in the goldfish tank and see.
Ralf takes aim and throws the tortoise at the goldfish tank from 15 feet. It hits a lamp just above the tank and the tortoise and lamp fall in the water.
Ralf: Anyone seen the candles?
Mika Hakkinen pokes his head around the door
Mika: Anyone seen a tortoise round here.
All: Piss off
Mika: It's a bit dark in here. What's that smell?
All that can be heard is a mad Irishman laughing in a corner.
Eddie: Hey, Mika...
Ralf,MS,Hill: SHUT UP!
Michael resets a circuit breaker by the front door. The lights come on. Eddie is sat on the floor in front of the fridge with an array of empty cans around him. Sparks and smoke continue to pour from the fish tank. Michael puts his favourite CD on. The Best Of Brotherhood of Man. As soon as the music starts, it is drowned out by the sound of Eddie doing Riverdance around the room. Michael turns the CD off again.
Hill: What do you do for entertainment around here.
MS: Well you can always watch these pair of idiots.
Eddie: It's always the same, a few drinks and all you want from life is a kebab. He takes the tortoise from the tank and wraps it up in pitta bread...
The pit garage of an Italian team whose cars are red.
MS: Right Eddie. You won't forget. Take off as many cars as you can.
Eddie: No Mickey...My bloody head hurts.
Michael turns and walks away, shaking his head disapprovingly. The boss, Jean, ushers Eddie into a corner.
Jean: Right, listen, we're fifty horsepower down on the silver things. But we have two secret weapons. The best driver and the drunken Irishman who couldn't give a shit...
Eddie: (interrupting) I didn't know Michael was Irish.
Jean: He's not, you berk...Wait a minute, you didn't think you were the best driver and Michael was a drunken Irishman, did you?
Jean starts laughing...slowly he sinks to the floor and crawls away, laughing so much tears are pouring down his face.
Michael is studying a telemetry printout at the front of the garage as Jean crawls up to him, still laughing. Jean grabs Michael's leg and tries to pull himself up...As he does this, Michael's designer trousers fall down, revealing ladies stockings. Ralf comes running in and trips over Jean, Ralf, Jean and Michael end up in a heap on the floor.
MS: (getting up) This is happening a bit to often, Ralf.
Ralf: Sorry Bro, what are you doing with my stockings on?
Jean: (Still on the floor laughing) Someone call Syd, I think I'm going to have a heart attack. This never happened with Mansell and Prost in 1990!
Eddie wanders over, with his overalls tied around his waist, designer sunglasses on, despite the fact it is snowing, and so many gold chains around his neck, he can barely stand up.
Eddie: Hi, Mickey, you've got a ladder in the stockings, I've got a spare pair in my motorhome if you want you're about my size.
The deluxe motorhome of the team with Silver cars. The Boss, Ron is talking to his cheif designer, Adrian.
Ade: You know, I had the idea of the oval air box, Ron and now everyone has them.
Ron: Ade, we have facilitated the production of a product which fulfils a criteria of different proportions.
Ade: Our airbox is not very oval compared to other teams.
Ron: I just said that.
Ade: Ross designed a front wing when he was with Benetton which was higher than the rest. Thus improving aerodynamics, now everyone has a raised nosecone.
Ron: Ade, we have a vehicular structure at the front of our car which is not entirely condusive to the theory that Ross was entirely correct in his deduction.
Ade: Of course, our nose is not the highest around this season, yet we are scoring more points than our rivals.
Ron: Do I detect from your willingness to divulge this technical data that the outcome of this conversation will involve an alteration to our vehicle in appearance, and therefore, other teams will be tempted to follow suit?
Ade: I have a theory, that if we visually modify our cars, the competition will quickly copy us.
Ron: I just said that.
Ade: I recommend that we tow a caravan behind our cars. Judging from the telemetry collated in Australia, we should still qualify on the front row. I predict that come race day, all the other teams will be lined up on the grid towing a caravan...Except us.
Ron: Now I know why I pay you such an extortionate sum of money.
The starting grid. several personalities and VIPs are milling around, most noticeably, Martin the commentator.
Martin: As we walk through the centre of the grid, you will notice that there is far less room than usual. This is because, most of the teams have followed the lead of the cars at the front of the grid and elected to tow a caravan behind the cars. If we look towards the sky, we can see that the weather has changed dramatically since yesterdays blizzard, there is not a cloud in the sky. The ambient temperature is 98 degrees farenheight, that's um.. err... well I don't know what it is in celcius, answers on a postcard please, there'll be a prize for the first correct answer. Let's have a chat to Johnny Herbert. Johnny, you qualified sixth on the grid, not bad, what are your chances.
JH: Yes, No, Well the err.. Yes, No, Martin. I have to admit, the caravans slow us down a bit, I'm not sure why the front runners used them in qualifying but they must have had a bloody good reason, so we have copied them. They slow us down by about twenty seconds a lap, but that's the same for everyone.
Martin: Thanks Johnny. Let's see what Eddie Irvine has to say. Eddie, what are your prospects for the race?
Eddie: Well the best I can hope for is second behind Michael. Michael is the best, and my contract states that I must tell you. I'm obviously not allowed to beat him. We'll have to have a drink after the race, Martin.
Martin: Thank you Eddie, I'll look forward to it...Moving on now, here's second place man, David Coulthard. David, what is to be gained by towing a caravan?
DC: Och, absolutely nothing, Martin. That's why Mika and I are leaving them in the pits. They could be a bit of a problem for the other guys though eh ?
Martin: Thank you David, now let's have a word with pole man, Mika-where's-my- tortoise-Hakkinen. Mika, you are on pole position, you are not being held up by towing a caravan, what are your chances.
Mika: Frankly Martin, I've won the race already. David and I are not racing each other, and we predict that the extra strain of towing a caravan will blow the other guys engines by lap 12. Of course, Ralf Schumacher will be in the gravel on the first corner! By the way, Martin, have you seen my tortoise anywhere?
A small prefabricated construction, used for commentary. Some bits of paper can be seen stuck to the walls. One such piece contains the name Ornesto Tuero crossed out and the name Esteban Tuero in red letters beneath it. Murray is the only person here at the moment. He can hear Jim through his headphones. They are being broadcast live.
Jim: And now its live to Murray Walker!
MW: Hello and welcome to the er... Grand Prix. As you can see, It is a lovely hot sunny day. The weather forecast is that we will see a five year drowt in this country. But I have my suspicions that there will be another influence in the outcome of this race...Rain.
Martin enters the room
Martin: Well actually Murray, If it rains here then I'll eat Michael Schumachers hat.
MW: Over to James in the pitlane!
Cut to pitlane. James is in the Silver pit. There are mechanics laughing behind him.
James: As you can see the boys behind me are quite confident. They have the best cars around. You may have noticed they qualified yesterday with caravans behind their cars. Today, they have elected to remove the caravans, the only team not to tow a caravan in the race. They think this is the way to go. We'll have to wait and see. Meanwhile I have a special guest, Gerhard Hot-dog.
Suddenly, a tremendous thunderstorm starts. James and Gerhard take shelter in the garage of another Italian team, named after a highstreet store.
James: What do you think of the caravan situation?
G HD: Well, it is amazing zat zhe uzer teams have opted to use zem especially as the silver cars have taken zeirs off.
James: Johnny Herbert has told us they slow him down by twenty seconds a lap, is this right?
G HD: Yes, zat is vot Johnny said.
James: Do you agree that they slow the cars that much?
G HD: Yes, zey vill make ze corners very difficult.
Michael enters the garage with a few bodyguards.
MS: Hello, James. Here, take my spare helmet for Martin. It's pissing down out there.
G HD: Yes, here take zis tomato sauce too.
James: Hello, Giancarlo, what to you think of the cars with caravans on the back, will it help you in the race.
Fischi: I am very happy with the caravan.
James: Johnny claims they cost him twenty second a lap, is this the case on your car too?
Fischi: No, I am very happy. Johnny has made no comments about my car.
James: Do the caravans slow you down?
Fischi: Yes, I am not very happy with this.
James: Thank you. Back to you Murray.
We return to the commentary box with Murray and Martin.
MW: The red lights come on. One... Two... Three... Four... Five...wait......Go!
Martin: There must have been contact there Murray.
MW: Its Ralf Schumacher! He's had a terrible start to the season and now he's sat on Eddie Irvine's caravan. Tuero! Now Ornesto Tuero has run into them. There's carnage on the track!
Martin: There'll be a restart Murray. They'll have to stop the race.
There is a commercial break. We rejoin Murray and Martin for the restart.
MW: And there off off off for the start of the race. Oh no! I don't believe it. It's Ralf Schumacher! He's off.
Martin: I would imagine it will be much harder to overtake with those caravans.
MW: Yes, But look at those silver cars pulling away, surly those caravans are holding the pack up. Look Fisichella has stopped. What's he doing? He's going into the caravan...He's making a cup of tea!
Martin: That's Wurz and he's pitching a tent. This is ridiculous. It's like a trip to the seaside. He'll be needing to stay in that caravan, because he'll be in terrible trouble when he gets back to the pits.
James enters the room, with a cameraman. He is carrying a bottle of tomato sauce and Michael Schumachers Helmet...
James: This is a bit of a boring race, Martin, why don't you liven it up.
He hands Martin the helmet and sauce bottle.
James: It's still raining Martin. Eat the hat!
Michael, Ralf and Damon's apartment. The fish tank is now gone. We are inside the apartment. No one else is there. The front door opens. Michael walks in, Damon Walks in, Ralf, still with holes in his knees and laces undone also has his left arm in plaster. He trips over the door step, when he gets up, he has a nose bleed. Damon and Ralf have goodyear caps on. Michael has a goodyear cap on which has been defaced. Goodyear has been crossed out and Bridgestone written in. Michael takes three bottles of Lucozade from the fridge and hands them around. They all sit down.
MS: Good to be home.
Hill: Yes, terrible race.
Ralf: (emptying gravel from his cap) I enjoyed it actually, I made it to the second corner.
Knock at the door
Mika: (Through letter box) It's me, Mika and David. It's OK, Eddie didn't see us.
Ralf stands up and goes to the door. He appears to struggle for some time. He is pushing the door as hard as possible but it still doesn't open.
MS: Pull, you dipstick.
Ralf pulls the door and it opens. Mika and David come in, each smoking a joint the size of an elephants trunk. Ralf shuts the door.
Mika: Has anyone seen my tortoise?
The door knocks again. Michael goes to the door.
MS: Who is it?
A female voice replies:
We're with David.
Michael opens the door, four blondes walk in. They are clearly struggling to walk on their twelve inch stilettos.
Mandy:I'm Mandy, these are Tracy, 'Chelle and Sandy...We're models. They giggle childishly
MS: Bloody hell, David, where'd you find these?
DC: After the way me and Mika showed you up, yesterday, I thought we'd come round for a party, Man. He takes a long drag on his spliff.
MS: Like a drink, girls, I take it you are old enough. David gesture to them to lie about their ages.
Mandy: Four Hooches please, Michael...How about you girls?
Tracy: Same for us too, please Michael...We are old enough. She grins unconvincingly.
David looks worried, but Michael doesn't appear to suspect anything. Ralf sits in silence, looking at Mandy. He is dribbling uncontrollably. Michael hands out sixteen bottles of Lucozade to the girls.
Mandy: So, Ralf, what happened to your arm, does it hurt?
Ralf: (Still dribbling) Arm...Hurt...mmmm.
Mandy: I'm really hungry, anyone fancy a sandwich, there's a snack bar down the road.
Ralf: I er love you...I mean... Can I cook some pot noodles, ladies?
Mandy: That would be triffic. I love those nutritious meals that some kind man put in those convenient packets, they are marvellous.
Ralf stumbles into the kitchen. In the process, he trips and falls head first into Mandys hand bag. He climbs to his feet, murmuring some nonsense about tissues and lipstick.
Mika: What happened to your fish tank?
MS: There was a er um...
Hill: ...an accident.
DC: (sarcastically) Let me see, was Ralf involved...?
Thick smoke billows out around the kitchen door.
Ralf: It's ok, I'm in control. Michael, (Sobs) don't let the girls know.
Mika: That's terrible. I loved those little fishies almost as much as Tremor.
MS: Who's Tremor?
Mika: My beloved tortoise. He's my reason for living. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to him. Have you seen him?
MS: I think Eddie mentioned him the other day, I'm not sure.
The room is full of smoke
Mandy: Do you think Ralf's alright out there?
MS: Ralf is an amazing young man. There is absolutely nothing in the world that he can't er... Break!
An enormous explosion is heared coming from the kitchen. Ralf emerges with five pot noodles. He is black from head to toe in soot, with one hand shaped patch on his face where he had his hand over his eyes.
Ralf: Good news Michael, I caused less damage than last time.
Ralf hands the girls a pot noodle each and casually sits down on Mandy's kneee and eats one himself.
A private jet, somewhere over The Atlantic Ocean, Damon, Murray and Martin are the only people on board.
Hill: I cant understand it, Ive spent a week with the Schumachers, and Ralf has nearly killed me eighty seven times. Thats not counting the incidents on the track. He burnt the kitchen down yesterday boiling some water. Ive got to find somewhere else soon.
MW: Unless Im very much mistaken, Mrs Walker said you could stay with us!
Martin: Actually Murray, she said no such thing.
MW: I am very much mistaken, Its me, I want you to come and stay with us. I, Murray Walker am inviting the son of the late.. great... Graham Hill and nineteen ninty err.. something Formula One World Champion to stay with me for as long as he likes.
Hill: Thanks Murray, promise me one thing though.
MW: Anything Damon.
Hill: Dont say Im going to win a race or anything that will curse me.
The radio crackles into life... Mika Hakkinens voice is heard
Mika: Has anyone seen a flying tortoise?
MW: Its Mika Hakkinen...He must be losing his marbles there!
The house of Mr and Mrs Murray Walker.
MW: Mrs Walker! Unless Im very much mistaken, Im nearly home... I AM very much mistaken! I am home!
MrsW: Unless Im very much mistaken... Youve brought Johnny Herbert with you...I AM very much mistaken...Thats Damon Hill!
Hill: Ive got a funny feeling about this...
Mrs Walker goes up stairs
MW: Its Mrs Walker...She must be going to the bathroom now!
The door can be heard closing upstairs and the light switch clicks.
MW: Shes in the loo. Theres plenty of time, I good carefull stop and she should rejoin in the lead.
The flush is pulled, the door opens and the light is heard to be switched off.
MW: Yes. Shes out. And she rejoins without losing position. That was the quickest stop Ive seen all season.
Hill: I think Ill nip down the pub for a quick drink.
MW: Unless Im very much mistaken, Ill sit down and have forty winks.
Hill: Yes Murray thats a good idea. (whispers) Thats a bloody brilliant idea!
MW: I am very much mistaken... Ill join you at the pub!
Hill: (whispers) Shit!
Murrays local "Damons Den" the walls are covered in pictures of Damon. The staff all have replica racesuits and Damon Hill baseball caps. All the regulars are making engine noises and turning imaginary steering wheels. The corner table is surrrounded with cushions, including up the walls, floor, tables , everywhere. Two nutters are making models of Damons cars out of hair and bodily fluid.
Murray enters the front door.
MW: Look who Ive brought to see you everybody...It...it...it...I cant believe it...its Damon Hill.
Damon comes in. Everyone stands up and takes a bow. Most of them forget to put their drinks down and wet their trousers...It doesnt matter much as they are mostly incontinent anyway.
The landlord opens a bottle of Moet... The cork flies up Damons nose.
Hill: Bloody hell. This is as bad as the bleedin Schumachers.
MW: Id like something non alcoholic please...Vodka I think.
Hill: Actually Murray vodka is very alcoholic.
MW: Youre right there Damon...Hang on, Im starting to sound like Martin. Id like a pint of Guiness please...Oh, no...Unless Im very much mistaken, Im turning into Eddie Irvine...I am very much mistaken...Id like a small glass of coke please.
Damons mobile telephone rings. He reaches into his pocket and answers it.
Mika: Have you seen my tortoise anywhere?
Hill: No Mika, here ask Murray.
Hands the phone to Murray.
MW: Hello and welcome to the err... Pub. Where rumours about the future of Mika Hakkinen and his tortoise are running through the err... pub like wildfire. I think that the out come of this discussion will be affected by the weather. As I look out of the window of my err...pub, I can see it is beautiful sunshine.(The ceiling caves in under the weight of torrential rain and Murray gets soaked) However the topic on most peoples lips here today is did Eddie Irvine electrocute Mika Hakkinens tortoise, and eat it...The answer is of cause Yes.
The telephone line goes dead...There is good reason to suspect the telephone is not the only thing to have departed.
A very expensive private hospital.Mikas wife, Erja is standing outside the door. She cannot go in as her nose is to big to fit through the door.
Ron: It would appear to me, being of relatively little neurological ability that at this particular juncture the relative health of the Finnish gentleman in relation to another randomly generated person, who is of relatively good health, the gender of whom remains irrelevent is in a condition which could be described as less than perfect, but none the less not so fickle as to be fatal at this moment in time. Syd: Mika will live... Just so long as you keep him away from Murray...I dont hold out much hope for Eddie Irvine when Mika has finished with him though.
All characters portrayed in this text are totally fictious and any similarity to persons either living or dead is coincidental...Please don't sue me its only a bit of fun!
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