In 1976, I almost burned to death chasing my rival James Hunt like an assLOL at New Burger Ring, trapped in my blood-red Ferrari for almost a minute in 800-degree Hellfire. If you want to know how hot Hell is, try it yourself and well share horror stories over a warm glass of wine by the flaming chimney ... Today, I wearily stare at my bright-red prayer mat in this spacious mosque in Shiraz, more airy than the tight, claustrophobic confines of an F1 car which James himself described as a bomb on wheels. The stained glass reflects a myriad colours as I strain to remember James in my prayer. When I heard that he died at the age of 45 of a heart attack, I wasnt surprised ... I was just sad. As my Ferrari forehead touches the gold-sunlit ground, I close my eyes in serene resignation, knowing that James is somewhere in high heaven drunk with his harem of women, winking slyly at me as I ruefully reminisce: NIKI: Take a drink on me, James. JAMES: Thank you, Niki ... I think Ill have two. AssLOL, I smiled wryly, as I finished my Ferrari prayers.
Posted on: Sun, 16 Mar 2014 11:14:02 +0000
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