Tales from the Dark Side - Life (or something similar) from within the FOM Bunker

Deep within the FOM bunker a silver haired billionaire sits in a large leather chair stroking a fluffy white cat. A minion rushes in:

Minion: "Mr Ecclestone, Mr Ecclestone, the contributors of Clip the Apex are up in arms about your deal with Sky"

BE: "Fuck 'em, have em shot. Oh, and to really piss them off ban overtaking at the next race"

The minion walks out backwards scraping and bowing as the cat purrs loudly.
 
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Deep within the FOM bunker a silver haired billionaire is having the fluff picked out of his navel in the Fluff Picking room. The minion with the tweezers attempts to engage his master in conversation.

Minion: My Lord, what will happen to FOM when you retire?

The silver haired billionaire leaps to his feet and stares into the chest of the minion.

BE: RETIRE? RETIRE? HOW DARE YOU SUGGEST SUCH A THING!
Minion: Sorry oh Dark Lord. It's just that I had been reading an article on Clip the Apex on A Life After Bernie.
BE: That website will be the death of me, if it was possible for me to die. Do you not realise the system that F1 and FOM is based on minion?
Minion: No, oh great and noble one.

BE wanders across to a cupboard and removes a red covered book which he tosses to the minion. The cover reads "The Rise and Fall of the Soviet Union". The word "Fall" has been struck through with a black marker pen.

Minion: Ah My Liege, I see your plan.
BE: We just have to avoid our Boris Yeltsin moment. So, if anyone suggest John Button should take over if anything happens to me have them shot.
Minion: By your command.

BE lays back down on the table and the minion returns to extracting the fluff from BE's navel which he carefully collects in a silver salver.
 
In a darkened room at the rear of the FOM jet a silver haired billionaire is having his usual post race full blood transfusion. A minion enters carrying a satellite telephone.

Minion: Mr Rosberg snr for you Il Duce
BE: Speak
KR: Thank you Mr E, when do you want the second instalment paying?
BE: The agreement was when he has the Championship tied up but I will need some extra cash to pay off the front wheel man at Mercedes. Another 10% should do it.
KR: Not a problem, consider it done.

BE passes the telephone back to the minion.

Minion: Bahrain sire?
BE: What a stupid question. A stupid question like that is going to get a stupid answer. Biggin Hill!
Minion: Yes Oh Great One.

A nurse in a Benny Hill type nurses uniform attaches another blood pack to the cannula as the minion leaves the room.

Minion: Home guys, you can put the plane away for a few weeks.

The FOM jet banks and heads north...
 
Deep with the FOM bunker a silver haired billionaire approaches the CVC cupboard. He opens the door to reveal 4 suited men crammed into a space just large enough to fit two desks. A 10 watt bulb hangs from the ceiling, barely illuminating the room. As the door opens all the occupants simultaneously raise their arms to cover their eyes and groan, morbidly.

BE: Right I need word with you lot.
Suited man No.1: How may we assist you Oh Great Benefactor?
The other 3 in unison: Oh Great Benefactor
BE: About this floatation, more information than I'm happy with is making it into the public domain
Suited man No.1: Not from use Oh Great Benefactor
The other 3 in unison: Not from us, not from us
BE: Shut it! Someone is finding out all out little tricks to make sure any profits from this sport stays where it rightfully belongs. With me.
All 4 CVC men in unison: With you, with you...
BE: One of my minions printed this out from that bloody Clip the Apex website.

Bernie holds up a chart showing the interrelationship between all the various companies he owns.

BE: And, the bastards know how much money we are making
All 4 CVC men in unison: Not us, not us.

The all cower back in the cupboard a little further

Suited man No.1: I'll have jez101 shot sire
BE: Bloody right. And you won't have any more of this expensive electric light until it's sorted.

The silver haired billionaire pulls the light cord, plunging the dimly lit room into complete darkness. He walks away and throws the door shut.

All 4 CVC men in unison: Thank you Oh Great Benefactor. We are but your humble servants.
 
Deep within the FOM bunker a silver haired billionaire is sitting in his trainers room admiring his collection of running shoes, a minion enters:

Minion: Oh Great Dark Overlord of Formula 1 there is a strong possibility that Fernando Alonso may win the drivers World Championship this year
BE: Bollocks!
Minion: Bollocks indeed sire

The minion exits, walking backwards, bowing and scrapping.
 
Deep with the FOM bunker a silver haired billionaire is having a coffee in the Starbucks room. A minion enters:

Minion: Sire, myself and the other minions were wondering if you would be interested in creating an FOM cartoon series, similar to the one McLaren have made?
BE: Fuck off!

The minion leaves bowing and scraping
 
Deep within the FOM bunker a silver haired billionaire is renting a DVD at FOM's Blockbuster store. A minion rushes in:

Minion: Your Holy Grandness, the telephone is ringing and from the number it appears to be Mr di Montezemolo
BE: Can't you see I'm busy either get him to leave a message or tell him to fuck off!
Minion: By your command oh Wonderful Nobleness.
 
Deep within the FOM bunker silver haired billionaire is at FOM's Domino Pizza outlet - "The Pizza of Champions". As the billionaire looks through the menu a minion dashes in.

Minion: Oh great Dark Lord of the Underworld, I have news concerning the Mercedes team.
BE (without looking away from the menu): Tell me.
Minion: Oh great noble one, Mr Schumacher has retired and Mr Hamilton has replaced him
BE: Double peperoni please, with a cheese stuffed crust
Minion: Are you not surprised oh supreme being?
BE: and some garlic bread
Minion: Sire?
BE: You know I've been out a little lately?
Minion: Yes sire.
BE: And what do you think I've been doing?
Minion: The discussion in the Minion's Repository was that you were having more organs changed Sire.
BE: FOOLS! I was sorting out the driver line ups for next season. Needed shaking up a bit, only problem was I couldn't get Whitmarsh to drop that fool Button and his idiot father. Every time I mentioned his name he just had this dreamy look in his eyes and lost concentration for 5 minutes. Then he rushed to the toilet.
Minion: So this was all your doing Il Duce?
BE: Of course. Just have to get that mobile speed bump out of Ferrari and get that young German in.
Minion: Hulkenberg?
BE: Oh shit, you said Schumacher announced his retirement didn't you? Bollocks. Get me Luca on the phone, NOW!
Minion: Yes sire
BE: and have the pizza delivered
Minion: but the pizza eating room is only next door...

The silver haired billionaire stares at the minion who drops his head and exits the room bowing and scraping. Outside of the pizza shop a motor scooter can be heard warming up.
 
Deep with the FOM bunker a silver haired billionaire is in the money counting room, rubbing €500 across his naked body. A minion enters...

Minion: Sire, Sire! Oh my God, sorry oh great one.
The minion looks away
BE: Fool, I'm just rubbing the dead skin from my body. What do you want?
Minion: We have received a missive from someone called snowy who claims to represent members of the Clip the Apex website.
BE: And? What does the fool want? More overtaking? Haven't we given them enough?
Minion: No, Oh Noble Liege, he has requested that you place Sebastien Vettel into a team with Fernando or Lewis
BE: Tell him to fuck off.
Minion: By your command

The minion exits, bowing and scraping. The silver haired billionaire returns to rubbing his skin with Euro notes.
 
Deep within the FOM bunker a silver haired billionaire is in the Royal room frotering his inflatable Camilla doll. A minion knocks on the door.

BE: Fuck off I'm busy
Minion: But Sire there is some news I need to share

The billionaire pulls up his trousers and shambles to the door. Opening it a crack he peers at the minion.

BE: What!
Minion: Mr di Montezemolo has suggested you are too old to run Formula One.
BE: Hmm, fire up the jet and send for a large Italian gentleman,
Minion: By your command.
 
Deep within the FOM bunker a silver haired billionaire is leafing through a copy of Flight International in W H Smith. A minion approaches

Minion: Will you be buying that sire?
BE: Why would I want to buy it when I can read it here?
Minion: Indeed sire, I wondered why we have a newsagent in the bunker.
BE: Anyway, looking for new jet.
Minion: Would this be driven by Mr Hamilton's recent purchase?
BE: Might be...
Minion: Would you like me to look on the internet for a suitable machine for you?
BE: Go on then.

He replaces the copy of Flight International and picks up a copy of Nuts, the cover reads "Tamara Ecclestone, Topless at Last". After a few minutes the minion returns with a image printed on a piece of paper.

Minion: Sire, we have found the perfect machine for you.

He hands the paper to the silver haired billionaire and exits rapidly.

medical-2.jpg



BE: Bastard!
 
Deep within the FOM bunker the minions are sitting in the repository whispering.

Minion 1: It's only 3 weeks before the first race, when were we supposed to wake him?
Minion 2: 2 weeks before
Minion 1: But how long does it take for him to defrost?
Minion 2: 6 hours in a warm room and 48 hours in the chiller!

They both giggle quietly

Minion 3: Shh!
Minion 1: Why do we have to keep quiet anyway?
Minion 2: Errm, yeah? He's in deep freeze, it's not like he can hear us.
Minion 3: You think?

Down the corridor, in the stasis room, a silver haired billionaire is ensconced in a cryo chamber awaiting the start of the F1 season. But even in his semi-dormant state the discussions in the minions repository is fed into his ear via a tiny ear piece along with live feed from the offices of all the F1 team principles and from the FIA headquarters in Paris...
 
Deep within the FOM Bunker two minions are sitting in the repository waiting for pages to open on their Olivetti M24 computer via the dial up modem their Silver Haired Billionaire has proved them with for "fun time".

Minion 1: You know, I can't help think we didn't defrost him completely this year
Minion 2: I know what you mean

An image slowly appears on the screen:

bernie_a_2492713b.jpg
 
Deep within the FOM bunker a silver haired billionaire is in the Flavio flogging room beating a large Italian gentleman with a riding crop. A minion enters

Minion: Oh great Noble Lord, the members of Clip the Apex have been wondering why there have been so few updates from the bunker even though the Formula 1 (TM) season is well under way
BE: Fuck 'em, I've been busy
Minion: But can we at least share some information?
BE: Okay, let them know that it was me who paid Perez to run into Button, I've been spreading the rumours about RD getting pushed out and Ross Brawn leaving Mercedes, oh, and if you mention the Flavio flogging room make sure Max doesn't find out otherwise that twot will be round here with his pants down before you can say libel suit.
Minion: Your generosity is only surpassed by your goods looks Majesty.
BE: Eh?

The minion disappears quickly.
 
Deep within the FOM bunker a siler haired billionaire is in the ice cube room dropping a few cubes into a freshly poured glass of Red Bull. A minion enters:

Minion: Sire, there is a large Italian....

The minion is bruskly pushed aside an Flavio enters

FB: BERNIE!

He gives the silver haired billionaire a bear hug, making his bones crack.

BE: Flavio, how do you keep getting in here
FB: It's very easy, I never leave.
BE: So, what this time?
FB: I have been watching the season with great interest and I believe that one of the teams could benefit from my own, magical brand of team management.
BE: Do you now. And which one would this be?
FB: Why McLaren of course

The silver haired billionaire sips from the chilled glass of bubble gum flavoured liquid.

BE: You know, that might just work. MINION! Get the Arabs on the phone, I have a proposal for them, especially if they want to keep all those shit races in the desert.

Flavio collapses into a large leather chair with a self satisfied look on his face.

To be continued...
 
Deep within the FOM bunker a silver haired billionaire sits in a massage chair in the Massage Chair Room. A minion enters:

Minion: Oh great, noble liege. You have been very quiet recently.
BE: What do you expect, after that incident with the revolving door I'm looking like a bit of a tit.
Minion: No more than usual sire.
BE: Indeed. What?
Minion: Surely your trouble with the authorities in Germany is more of a problem than an inability to enter a building?
BE: You can't buy off a door.
Minion: Indeed so. Anyway, we were wondering what happened on you visit to McLaren with the large Italian gentleman.
BE Ah, well after Bernd Mylander had driven us on the monorail to Woking...
Minion: I wondered what he did other than driver the SLS.
BE: Silence. We entered into the MTC via the basement entrance I had installed and entered into some discussion with his Ronness. Problem is I couldn't understand a bloody word he said. Eventually the whipping boy came along and took us on a tour but Flav had a panic attack, something to do with the long white corridors and self locking doors, reminded him of his childhood in the asylum. We ended up having to take him to John Button's pad where, fortified with a few glasses of Chablis we all took it in turns to piss in the plant pots and then we came back.
Minion: So the large Italian Gentleman won't be taking over at McLaren?
BE: Not until Fernando goes back in 2015 and then the HQ has to move to Hampstead. Flav muttered something about building a cottage on the Heath.
Minion: One final question, this monorial sire, does it have a track to ever F1 team
BE: Of course.
Minion: Even for Caterham and Marussia?
BE: Who? Put another quid in the chair will you.

The minion places a coin into the pay slot on the side of the massage chair. He exits backwards, bowing as he leaves, as the silver haired billionaire enjoys another 10 minutes of vibratory bliss.
 
It's Christmas time at the FOM bunker. The minions have dragged out a threadbare artificial tree and are looping a set of lights around it, half of which don't work. A silver haired billionaire enters:

BE: What the fuck is going on here?
Minion: It is Christmas sire, we though we would cheer up the minions repository with some decorations
BE: Well only plug it in for 10 minutes day, that electricity doesn't pay for itself.
Minion: But Oh Noble Liege, we steal our electricity from the MTC
BE: Oh yeah (chuckles to himself)
Minion: Sire, myself and the other Minions were wondering if there might be some sort of bone..., bone..., bonus this year...

The hairs bristle on the silver haired billionaires neck and his face flushes

BE: A WHAT!
Minion: A bonus sire, we have all worked very hard. The snipers took out Lewis' tyre at Silverstone
BE: But they missed in Hungary
Minion: A minor oversight Oh Dark Noble Lord, the shooter got caught up in a night out with John Button on the Saturday and was a little hungover
BE: What else have you done to deserve a bonus?
Minion: We successfully infiltrated the McLaren Design team computer and "upgraded" their design using CAD data from the 1992 Andrea Moda
BE: Oh yeah, that (A broad grin spreads across his face)
Minion: We hacked the Red Bull "Vettel Dream Programming System" Master Newey designed, in Malaysia, and programmed Vettel to believe Mark Webber thought he was a talentless arsehole. No matter how many times they shouted Multi 21 he wasn't going to stop.
BE: You really believe that made any difference?
Minion: We now have two female team principles
BE: Hmm, not sure congratulations are in order for that, you know the large Italian Gentleman is still without a job
Minion:Yes Sire, a million apologies. However, we did manage to remove Mr Brawn at Mercedes by planting a rat in the organisation.
BE: Don't you mean a mole?
Minion: You have met Mr Lauda sir?
BE: Alright, there will be something extra in you pay packets this week but don't think I'm going soft
Minion: Never Sire, never

The silver haired billionaire wanders off towards the orangery as a second minion approaches the first:

Minion 2: So he hasn't worked it out yet?
Minion 1: Worked what out?
Minion 2: That it was us who tipped off the tax authorities in Germany.
Minion 1: SHHH!
 
Deep within the FOM bunker the minions have been gathered in the main meeting hall. A silver haired billionaire strides onto the stage and stands on an up turned milk crate strategically placed behind the podium. He pulls the microphone toward him...

BE: Right you lot, it's taken me 3 days to get in to the bunker. Who installed those revolving doors?

In another Galaxy, far, far away, Ron Dennis carefully scratches his name on the bottom of an invoice to approve the payment to "Flavio's fun door company". Under his breath he can be heard repeating "Worth every ha'penny, worth every ha'penny"
 
Early in the morning, deep within the FOM bunker, a silver haired billionaire is defecating in the corner of a small office. With the aid of the edge of a table he struggles back to an upright position, pulls up his trousers, tightens his belt and then strides out through door. As the door swings shut the legend "CVC Offices, please knock before entry" can be seen on the door.

"That'll teach for thinking they'd got rid of me!" mutters the billionaire as he wanders down the corridor.
 
Deep within the FOM bunker a silver haired billionaire is cutting the callouses off his feet with a stanley knife. A minion rushes in to the room clutching a sheet of paper.

Minion: Sire, we have news that Mr Di Montezemelo has decided to stand down from his position at Ferrari
BE: Does it say who's taking his place?
Minion: Yes oh great and noble one, a Mr Marchionne
BE: Is that in the announcement?

Before the minion can speak a large Italian gentlemen bursts in to the room:

FB: BERNIE,BERNIE (sobbing). You promised me that when Luca goes the job was mine.

FB grabs the paper the minion is holding and blows his nose in it.

BE: Flav, baby, be calm. Minion, prepare the equine decapitation device (under his breath) fucking Ron Dennis naming things again, and prepare the jet
FB: Bernie, you are a true friend.

FB hugs the billionaire with such force that his eyes bulge and his glasses fall off. The minion exits backwards bowing and scrapping.
 
Deep within the FOM Bunker two minions are in conversation:

Minion 1: Time to defrost him, the new season is nearly here
Minion 2: Once he's thawed should we tell him about the money we gave to some of the smaller teams?
Minion 1: Dunno, how much do you enjoy life?
Minion 2: A point well made, I'll put Jean Todt's signature on the cheques then?
Minion 1: As usual.
 
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