As you will all know, this years Carrera Cup came down to the last race of the season at Donnington. Going into the event Tim Harvey was 5 points clear of the young pretender, our very own Richard Westbrook. Now proudly sponsored by TWR (TeamWotaGuy Racing) Richard has access to the master, I will let him take up the tale from here...


A glorious late summers afternoon at Donnington and everything to play for in the Carrera Cup final race. I was standing in the paddock explaining the finer points of my applicator to Little Richard Westbrook when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

Little Tim Harvey sheepishly stood like a schoolboy who had forgotten his milk money at a Monday morning rogering ceremony. 'Hi Journoman, I was wondering if you'd brought along your inflatable trousers?' 'Why yes little Tim but they only stretch to a size 40 waist.' He looked down at his manly thighs ' 40 eh??? er yep they will fit fine'' 'Then my friend they are yours for the race. I will pop down to the DB5 and pick them up'.

Richard, followed looking perplexed. 'I thought that you were helping me Journoman', that fat sod will be 5 stone lighter wearing your inflatable trousers!' I turned, the sunlight glinting on my reacterlight shades. 'Richard, I am an old Etonian, and this is England. Fair play shall prevail Sir!!' The look of admiration, nay enlightenment fell upon the face of the young challenger. As I spoke, Mozart's Requiem Mass filled the air. I knew the big piston was upon us. This was to be a defining moment in history.

As the cars waited in the holding area, I leaned into the cockpit of Richard's car. 'Brake late and hard, give that baby all you've got, stay flat through the craners and use the applicator to the steady state lift off, power on situation.................oh and good luck' . Then I saw Tim frantically waiving. I walked over to his car and leant inside. 'bloody hell Timothy, those trousers are blown to bursting point!!' 'Yep Journoman, wev'e put 20000cc of helium in them. I think I weigh 2 stone now, but I'm having trouble moving'

And so the big show down. Green lights. Go!!

As each lap passed it was clear that the trousers were giving Tim a big advantage, he was closing in for the kill. Soon they were side by side and Tim crept into the braking zone for the old hairpin. Suddenly time stood still, the call of the big piston filled my consciousness HMMMMMMMM HMMMMMMMMMMM ' Calling Journoman, calling Journoman' 'What is it oh big piston?, fill me with your knowledge' 'Are you'est some kind of tit ???, I do place all of my heaveny pennies on Westbrook and you'est do give the lightness trousers to the fat boy' My prophecy ist this. If the fat boy do win, you shall be become a ginger leper for all eternity' and You shall only drink from the Asti fountain' My life flashed before me. Mater, Pater, Matron, Nanny, turnips, Father O'Mally and his wandering hands............ It was too much. I quickly ran to the DB5, grabbed the applicator remote and pressed the 'anti inflatable trouser button. In an instant, a tiny homing dart flew towards the huge trousers in tim's car. In a flash it was all over. His full 18 stone again, he was far too deep into the corner to stop and smashed into the side of Westbrooks car before spinning off to retire.

And so Richard was Champion. I called to the big piston 'Oh great one, I have done your bidding, am I to bear your wrath even now? ' No Journoman, you hast been true to me and so you shall not be the ginger king. Now go away for i is't busy.

As I walked to the Aston, contemplating the nightmare of a life drinking Asti, I saw Tim sitting miserably on the bonnet of his Cup car. He called a sad farewell as I walked by.

'Bloody Hell Tim, I wouldn't sit there if I were you, you'll go through it !! He spoke a a few words, but i did not understand either of them, but he reminded me in some strange way of little Tinky Winky.


Journoman says L O