"Do you fancy going to the Monacco Grand Prix, all expenses paid?" That's the first thing I heard when Rick Parfitt phoned me, but I needed to know more so Roger and I met at Ricks house later that day to get the whole story. Looking back at it now we should have been suspicious 'cause he started, "I met a man in a pub who's a TV producer and he wanted to know if I would like to go to Monacco, and be filmed watching the Grand Prix. I said Yeah, but if my mate Rog comes along you'll get Queen and Quo, and we have to take Crystal who looks after us both." He then proceeded to tell us that we would have a Lear Jet, stocked with Champagne and Caviar, to fly us to Nice, a helicopter from Nice to Monacco then a limo to the hotel. So far so good. Once there we would have the correct passes to go everywhere and the use of a huge boat, once again stocked with the works, and all meals, hotels, drinks etc.paid for. Sounds great. RT and RP are both fast car freaks, so they were in seventh heaven, me, I couldn't give a toss, I just like going places and this had all the makings of a good time. How wrong can you be.
The big day arrives and the limo picks me up at home and I head off to get Rog, and then on to Ricks, then to Biggin Hill Airport. We're sitting around at the private sector and I'm looking for a Lear Jet but can't see one, so off I go to locate the pilot. "Where's the jet mate?" I ask. The first shock of the day comes when he tells me we don't have one, and points to some dodgy little plane with propellers. Oh well, "Is there any booze on it?" A big NO was his reply, so off I go on a mission to locate stacks of alcohol (We're all nervous flyers) Somebody tightened the elastic band and this excuse for a Lear Jet finally got off the ground. We're getting nicely tanked up as we wave goodbye to the White Cliffs of Dover, and greet Calais on our trip south, when the plane starts to descend. What now? We land in Dijon to get fuel and the airstrip won't take the pilots card, so Rick uses his Amex and it seemed to take forever, but we finally get back in the air and continue to calm our nerves. It was a long flight, but a few jokes and a few too many slurps kept it all lighthearted until the pilot turned and said, "Do you guys wanna see Marseilles by night, it's really pretty?" I replied with a stern no, but we still saw it. After a seven hour flight we finally land in Nice and we get to meet the man from the pub, who's name I can't remember, but he did have a incredibly defective haircut and instantly became known as the poodle.
Once the bad flight was out of the way, it all went down hill. "Where's the helicopter?" I ask. "We dont have one.""Where's the limo then?" "We don't have one.""Well how the f*** do we get to Monacco then"The poodle informs us that he has a car and he's gonna drive. When we get to his car, it's a Renault 5 and theres us three with luggage and the poodle. We cram in and set of, making a very long detour into the center of Nice to pick up Mrs Poodle, now were very uncomfortable and apart from not being used to driving on the right, he's also a terrible driver. I had quite a few visions of joining Grace Kelly. When we finally get to the hotel I go into tour mode, approach the desk, "Hi, you have three rooms for us, Mr. R Parfitt, Mr. R Taylor and Mr. C Taylor." Another slap in the face when he says, "No sir, we only have two, Mr. R Taylor and Mr C Taylor, and the hotel is full." Nice one Rick, you organise the trip and you don't have a room. I let RP have my room and the poodle and myself go off in search of another hotel. Check in, drop the bags and head straight to hotel 1 to get the other two and go to dinner, to a restaurant that Monsieur Poodle has booked. Of all the great eateries in France, he has to pick the worst, but it did have good wine, lots of good wine. Once dined he then lets me know he doesn't have any Francs and could I lend him some? I don't think so, so I pay for dinner. All expenses paid eh, It's costing each of us a lot of money so far. Next we go to a club that is recommended by our canine host, we wait outside for 30 mins. while he arranges everything for us, and guess what, they don't let us in, not wearing ties or something.
It's been a long day so it's time to knock it on the head, should of knocked the poodle on the head 'cause he knows another club around the corner. He did make it sound appealing with his description of female clientele. Once inside this huge complex we managed to loose poodle, and we're wandering around corridors looking for the entrance and we walk round a corner, and lo and behold there's blue flashing lights and about a dozen cops, all with their guns pointing straight at us. It's amazing how your instincts tell you you're well and truly in the shit. They frisk us and they must have known we were VIP's cause we each had our own car to take us straight to jail, no passing go and no collecting £200. Even though they threw us in the same cell, for some strange reason they left the door open, which is now a good cue for the drummer to make stupid comments. " C'mon CT, we've done nothing wrong, let's go, let's just walk out of here." My reply to that was something on the lines of, I don't think so. Then the two of them chirp up, "Tell them who we are." Once again I replied, I don't think so, you tell them who you are. We were free to walk at about 7am, and I must say that the cops were very nice to us. Bedtime at last. Day 2 and nothing else can go wrong, or can it?
We get the passes from the poodle, and needless to say we don't have the right ones, but years of dealing with passes I know just about every trick under the sun, and we're in the backstage area of the Grand Prix. We head to the boat which is laid on for us, but the motor racing people make us feel unwelcome, so we clear off. Roger is getting feed up with all this and kept saying we should go home. My theory was, we're here, let's make the most of it. While all this is going on we had a camera following us filming every little move, after all that's what we came for. Later that day Jim Beech flew in, not to bale anyone, just to hang out. Evening arrives and I book a really good restaurant and refuse to tell the poodle where it is. We have an amazing meal, even better wine, and Rog is once again happy. We all decide to have an early night, RT and RP to hotel 1, CT to hotel 2, and JB to where ever he was staying.
When I go to reception and ask for my key, the little chap said, "Ah, Monsieur Tayleeeeer, you 'ave shanged roams." No I have not. "Oui Monsieur, we 'ave taken your bags to you new roam.". What the hell, I'm too tired to argue, if my luggage is there, no problem. When I open the door, no huge bed like my last room, two single beds, and some strange bloke in one of them. "Oi, who the f*** are you?" I bellowed. The poor bloke woke from a deep sleep and shat himself. It turned out he was an Italian journalist who the poodle had flown in to do interviews with Rog and Rick. I hurled abuse at this guy for a while and then realised that he'd done nothing wrong, it was all to do with the poodle. I phoned hotel 1 and told Rog what was going on, and finally had to agree with him and get the hell outta here. He phoned and woke the poodle and, as I wasn't there, can only presume that he used some very colourful language. Day 3, and the first thing on the agenda is to get three 1st class airline tickets from Nice, and a helicopter from Monacco to Nice. Done. Race day, and I have to admit it was quite a buzz, 'cause by now I've wangled all sorts of passes and we're down in the pits with all drivers, and these guys have some great looking girls hanging around. Giddy up. When you're standing on the start line of a Grand Prix and all those cars rev up it is impossible to describe the noise and volume, it's quite amazing. We caught about half hour of the race before we had to leave, and even though we had only been gone three days, it was great to get back to Blighty and go straight to the pub and have a good laugh about the whole weekend. The strange thing is, the poodle actually made a TV show out of it, and it was quite good.
[Modificato da Fiammy 03/07/2007 1.19]