F1NGERS - Monaco 2003

We set off from the hotel towards the mountains of Bar su Loup which houses the Karting circuit. Toof had found this 1300m track with 390cc Karts whilst perusing some porn sites and now we were for the off. Given IDC's super directions, we foolishly let Bob lead on after hearing hundreds of superlatives about the Satellite navigation system in Bob's car. As we were to find out, clearly this software was written by an Australian.

We head out of the main part of Nice and into these side streets. Then the side streets become mountain passes fit only for Chris Bonnington and goats. Never mind, I'm sure the Sat Nav knows what it's doing. So we climb and climb and then climb some more. Now in danger of screwing up air traffic control (more of that later) we start blasting the horn (oooer matron - more tea vicar?) at the red wally's. Sure enough, we are now descending, and descending and descending. Down past every mountain dwelling on the way. We figured maybe Bob was looking to buy some real estate in Nice and wanted to scan the location. Quite why he needed to do it twice just goes to show how thorough he can be. So, an interesting half-hour trip up the hill followed by a 15 minute descent down the SAME hill really set us in the mood.

As we climbed up, I had Stevie Wonder playing in the background (some might say the red car had Stevie Wonder giving them directions) and I became aware of a wind section I'd previously not heard during "Sir Duke". Sure enough, as we rounded another blind corner, so the horn section repeated. Hang on thinks I, I've listened to that particular track no less than 5000 times, and never before had I heard this trumpet. Did our car have some weird and wonderful sound system which added instruments to songs? I reach for the volume control as I see some locals throw their hands in the air as Bob passes them. As I turn the stereo off, so it becomes clear - "My GOD - Bob's like tooting his horn at all the blind bends - listen!" And so he was - and the locals REALLY appreciated his efforts. As I recall, they were screaming, "You fuckin moron" - but then my French isn't great. The only additional trumpet was driving the red car. HA! HAHA! HAHAHA! Did we rip the piss out of Bob for the rest of the trip? Suffice it to say, IDC got a welcomed break.

Speaking of IDC, by now we had lost Bob - oh, and we were literally back at our hotel - a good hour since we initially left it for the Alps. IDC swings into positive action with his now legendary skills and directs us to the airport. Actually, he directed us INTO the terminal of the airport. So we turn around and head back past the airport. And just to make damn sure, we decided (IDC decided) to pass the airport a further 2 times for good measure. Oh, on the same road you understand. The signage is ridiculous again, but with Dave in charge, we are soon (1 hour further down track) on the proper hill climb - minus the trumpets - literally.

Off on a dirt track, and we're soon at the Karting circuit. Man, this was one COOOOL place. The track was just spectacular and with much chatting with the bloke in charge, we settle for a 15 minute session. 7 minutes of practice then a 10 minute race. (Yes, I can count - and this was what I'd negotiated!) We all get strapped into the cars, and I am particularly drawn to car #5 for some bizarre reason - go figure? All helmeted up and racing overalls on (except Bob - the one which would have fitted him was being used as a catering marquee for the week) adrenaline now pumping HARD. GnJ's verbal diarrhoea still not plugged, we all blast out for the practice sess.

And then we went onto RACE. It had been arranged the previous evening that there would be 2 teams. The "Ferrari" team which consisted of Charlie, Elena, Me & Toof. The "non Ferrari team" (or homo's as we call them) would be GnJ, Bob, PatW & IDC on the other team. We toss off (as you do) for pole and The homo team win it and PatW lines up on the best slot with me in P2. We line up 4 abreast and the flag goes. PatW's clearly talking to himself (the only one who can hear him) and I zoom past into P1. My lead was never threatened although Bob reckoned without the "weight penalty" he would have been a contender. Pffffffft - excuses excuses. Elena and I managed to trip over ourselves towards the end of the race (typical Ferrari team mates eh? She never heard the team orders she proclaimed afterwards) however my lead was so gigantic that I had nothing to fear.

Further excuses alá Canadian style came in the form of "my engine caught fire" when we returned to the pit lane after the race. Does this sound familiar to anyone - "I'm sick of hearing you Amentalcans make excuses when the Brits kick your sorry arses (circa 1996/2003) and I nicely ask the organiser bloke if GnJ & I can have 2 laps on our own. He agrees and we set off with the Canadian in front.

Like all good British drivers, I blast past the Canadian into the lead with little to no effort required. He makes some foolish move to try and get back past me on one of the slower hairpins and promptly spins. I wait and wait and wait (as I had all fuckin trip on him getting his arse in gear) and even though I was only pushing about 3/10ths, he was languishing in my wake. I don't want to go on and on and on about it as Dave clearly never enjoyed LOSING after making such a big song and dance about how he was going to .......oh, what was it again....."kick my sorry Scottish ass all over the place". A handshake and a sneer later and we're on the podium. His final Canadian excuse was that (and I kid you not) this was "the first time he'd ever been in a Kart". Yeah sure and Jack's really committed to the BAR team as well Dave. Pfffffft. Somehow or another, he reckoned the non Ferrari team had won. We let him have this small consolation by way of compensation for being the LOSER of the day. But enough about LOSER Dave LOSING, I wouldn't wish to rub in the fact that he LOST.

We head back down towards Nice and are about to hand back the hire cars. I phone Bob and tell him the cool blue car has a great plan. We are to head for the hotel, pick up some clothes for the meal in Monaco, get freshened up a wee bit, hand the cars back at the railway station and then hop on a train to Monaco for some homework. He agrees wholeheartedly and then promptly does his own thing. We manage to find a slot just big enough for the MPV and we show Bob how one parks a car. Up to the hotel and we all have a shower and change. Pack 2 bags with nice clothes for the evening thing, and we're all ready to go to the train station. "Where's Bob?" Apparently handing the car back - at 1:30pm - when no one in Nice works during lunch. We revise the strategy and some of us head up in the cool blue car, namely IDC, Charlie, Elena and me. We meet Bob there and now he has to walk back to the hotel, get changed and all sorts of shit. No matter - "it's Bob's way". We find the train times and as there isn't one for another hour and a half, we decree some food to be the order of the day. "I know a great wee Chinese place" and so IDC, Charlie, Elena and I make our way over. At the last gasp I remember I need a post card so I tell the others to order up and I'll join them soon. Shit, I've forgotten a pen, however a quick chat with Elena reveals she has a writing implement in her handbag.

Postcard now bought and FAR too much Chinese food ordered, so we are sat at the table. Just finishing off some noodles and this beggar bird walks in with her hand stretched out. None of us make any eye contact and in a flash the manager is out getting rid of her. Not that anyone noticed, but the guy sat behind us also left at that time. Approximately 30 seconds later I ask Elena for the pen - her bag's no longer at her feet - it's no longer at the table - it's no longer in the restaurant.

Charlie, IDC & I leap up and look for the scumbag bastards who were sat behind us. Nothing. Elena remains remarkably calm, however, we all know what's just happened. "What was in it?" "Passports, credit card and airline tickets." FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK! I call the others and let them know what's happened, and they join us. We scan the streets looking for the discarded bag, alas, nothing is found. This is major shite, however Charlie & Elena's first thought is of the Gang O' nine. Never mind that they've just lost their important shit, they want us all to continue with the plan and head to Monaco. This is friendship at it's finest, and believe me, this act was not lost on any of us. Rather than have the team gloomy, Charlie, IDC & Elena decide to do the police, American consulate and airline themselves. Reluctantly, I agree and we set off on the train for Monte Carlo - a gang O six. :-(

I cannot jolt my heart back into it's now customary rhythm, however, I too have to think of the others. We get to Monaco and true to form, we get hopelessly lost trying to get from the railway station to Casino Square. Pat manages to make sense of the map and we end up near it - I finally recognise where we are and proclaim - "it's just doon here - there's a wee restaurant called Sam's Place then we hang a left and we're in Casino." At this point Bob consults his map and goes in an different direction - but then that's Bob. HA!

So, we pass Sam's Place and get to Casino with Bob & the map readers follow on from their direction. We the walk down Beau Rivage towards "the balcony" and I think again of Charlie and Elena. A quick call to IDC's mobile and there's not much to tell. He does however have access to the tickets and gives us the official address for the balcony. We've literally just walked past it, and now one of the smart members of the team (Elaine I think it was) decides we need a drink. "Now THAT'S a good idea" and so we find a bar for a beer and some water. I agree with IDC that we'll not eat in Monaco, we'll be back soon and all eat together. Sounds like a plan. Oh, HA! We had taken all our glad-rags in 2 cases thinking we could leave them in a locker at the railway station. Of course, these bags came with us all over Monaco. HA!

THE balcony is on the 7th floor of an office block, so without so much as a blink of an eye, GnJ, Elaine and I head up. I knock on the door of this business and am met by a charming lady. I ask her if this is the Surtees Balcony and does she deal with Airtrack to which she asks me to write it down. As I do, out comes a smashing bloke called Joel. Joel is the manager of this office and we politely ask if we can come in for a look out of the balcony. "Of course, please do". Not only was Joel a delightful chap, his English was fantastic. We were there for ages and spoke at some length with him. By now the others had came up and there was such a WOW factor at our chosen vantage point we were at last lifting our spirits. OK, let's get back to the others now and get the gang back together. Joel kindly directs us the quick way back to the train station and in no time we're on the platform - just as a train is leaving. "BASTARDS!"

The next train on the monitor is in 15 minutes, so we have a wee seat. I notice from the information monitor a wee bed beside the train and assume it's a sleeper train. Sure enough as it pulls into the station, every carriage has blacked out windows. We jump on the last carriage and we're good to go - except Bob. Bob decides he wants to see some more of the train and heads up the corridor toward the next carriage. As GnJ and the rest of us chase after him to tell him to stay put, so we are cut off by the train inspector. "OFF". That was it. End of story. Except of course for Bob - he remained on. The rest of us left behind were not in the least pissed off that we were stuck in Monaco while Bob was on the train. Oh, the lady from the office who answered the door joined us on the train back to Nice. There was much hilarity involving an automatic toilet door and a chic in a pink mini skirt. No matter how many times she closed the door, it reopened again. We were sat like directly on the other side of offending door - and all I could do was cover my eyes with my hands. (I peeked)

No matter, we EVENTUALLY get on the train to Nice and meet the others back at the Hotel Kent. We're all famished now, and to be honest I am relieved to find Charlie and Elena in good spirits. There's not much they can do at the moment, and everything is on hold until Friday as there's a local holiday the next day - (Thursday). That is a semi-result as Friday is a "free for all" day anyhoos, so at least they won't miss any of the pre-arranged activities.

We set off for a meal around the corner and it was pretty decent grub. A late night now and a very difficult day. No matter, it seemed to be coming OK in the end, and after the meal we headed for the Guinness pub to meet with IDC's mate. He had been calling his mate all week who was in the North of France. Sure enough this mate of his had decided to join us for the race - cool. So it was decreed we'd meet him in "the Guinness bar".

As we walked into the bar, so there was a vision of loveliness in the corner all in red. Bob now licking his lips and trying to make eye contact with this stunner, we all sit and order some Guinni. Before it's delivered some of us need to piss, and off to the gents we go. Followed closely by the woman in red. Even though the pub wasn't that well lit, it was clear as this lass stood beside us at the urinals what she was all about. Undeterred, Bob tried all night long to get into his knickers using subtle eye contact and manly gropes of his groinal region. As IDC's mate Ian came in, so this stunner left - Ian (IDC's mate) only caught a wee glimpse of her, however, it was more than enough for him to proclaim, "What the FUCK was that?"

Given that he'd made a pretty good first impression we agreed to try and score him a deal on our balcony. We all head back to the palatial Hotel Cunt, and Ian joins us. Well, we wanted to show off our fancy hotel - I'm sure you can imagine. We had another couple of pints in the cocktail lounge before we retired for the eve, and tomorrow was to be Café de Paris followed by DC's hotel in the evening. During this part of the night, we are treated to a "Bunko" story from Elaine. Now, this story was a mere 20 minutes in length and I recall it had something to do with a card game that women play. Bunko now a legend with the Gang O' Nine, we are almost set for bed. Were we in a good mood? All things considered, and the team now back to full fighting force - YOU BET!