Now stop that. This is all far too silly

A large number of complaints have been flooding in from oop North (thanks Morag) and down Souf (much appreciated Mr. B) that the artist formerly known as Phantom has been, well, how can I put this, a bit sensible lately. And for that I must apologise. To be fair, try applying skin whitener and leaving it on overnight.

What with tragedies, late night delivery runs (a 500km / 310 mile round trip last night) desert recoveries, badly broken cars, incorrect parts et cetera, et cetera, I have to be honest and say my funny bone has been badly bruised for the last couple of evenings. But fear not, lovers of Phantom Philosophy, for tonight, "I be back".

To err is human, to Aaaarrrrr is pirate.

Let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to begin. When you read you begin with A-B-C, when you rally you begin with 200 right 4 flat into left 2 tightens over crest Caution! Don't cut. And thus the prologue began, as evidenced by these here photos wot was taken by my talented assistant Mr. Ansell. Quite what his talent is, other than making flatulence impressions under his armpit, nobody knows, but he's claiming it anyway. As usual there was a gale blowing, causing endless misery for the spectators and indeed, for the spectres (we Phantoms notice these things.) But Ian drove steeringly, Sheila co-drove navigatorily, and thus the car went from one end of the Special Stage to the other faster than some of the cars and slower than some of the others. What's important is that they competed, and everyone got a rosette, regardless of how fast they drove.

RUBBISH! What's important is going faster than your competitors, embarrassing and belittling them and kicking sand in their face. And thus, the politically incorrect fairytale of Newtrix Racing blasted on to Day One. Which is the second day of the competitive part of the rally. Are you following? Well you would be if you were slower than Ian & Sheila.

Following the prologue the dynamic duo were interviewed by Larry King and Angela Rippon. Actually that's not true but I don't know the name of their interviewer so Larry King will have to do. What was quite hilarious was watching a cameraman who stood about 5' 3" tall, raising the tripod sufficiently to interview 6' 4" Ian. Take a look at the photo. I have no idea if Ian was even in the camera shot because frankly, neither had the cameraman or sound engineer. (If you describe yourself as a 'sound engineer' are you bragging, or understating your potential?)

Anyway, I digest.

So Day One  (the second day) consisted of Ian driving fast, Sheila telling him to slow down a bit, Ian ignoring those particular instructions, other people's cars breaking down, "Richy Ricky Kate" sitting around counting their toenails (Kate helped Ricky with the big numbers) and PB in the office scratching his elbow. At least I think it was his elbow. The Dogs finished, Richy Ricky had too much to drink, Kate and I had a late night rendezvous (woo hoo, see "Was That It?" magazine for details) and a lot of people snored.

On Day Two (which is Day Three) Ian decided to put in his application for the Australian Rally a few months and several degrees of latitude too early. Had he started out the day inverted, things might have had a softer ending. But you know how that story goes, so where did we leave the story last night. Oh yes.....

As I left the bivvy at around late o'clock, Sheila was looking for a man. Not just any man, but an FIA inspector, who all simply love being woken up and dragged out of their warm beds to be shown a badly bent car and asked 'is it OK if we race this tomorrow?". Clearly said FIA man was disinclined to accede to this request and went back to bed to count rule changes, but come the morning a different gentleman, the slightly more awake  Mr. very very nice Lionel (yes, he's a nice, helpful, charming and ever so nice Frenchman. I know. But he is named after Richard the LionelHeart so perhaps he is really English but has a funny accent.) said "bert off cours you can race mon leetle Cherie, juust straighten ze bodywork and she weel be as right as pleut". I told you he had a funny accent. But he is nice.

So while Sheila made the nice Mr. Lionel a soup bowl of onion and snail flavoured black coffee, Kate fluttered her eyelashes at him and buttered his baguette (you know what those French, possibly English guys are like in the morning) Ian dashed into town to buy some brake lights, because the old ones were completely braked, Richard "I've got a tool for that crushed bodywork I 'ave" Bailey and Rick "I may not be much help but I'm a bloody good shot so don't argue with me" Carless started hitting things very hard with large hammers, and I had a lie in.(Well it was a VERY tiring drive!) By lunchtime, Lionel had finally finished his cup of coffee (OK, so he is French) Kate's eyelids were exhausted and Sheila was topping up her tan. Ian was telling rude jokes to the medical staff (they'd heard them all before but morphine is wonderful stuff when you've got a tough crowd) Richard "nothing flusters me I'll just make a new roof out of this baked bean tin and some duct tape" Bailey was still hitting things and Rick "Are we there yet" Carless was shouting bad words at the pigeons. So just another day in the bivvy then.

By 7pm the car was sorted, Lionel was 'appy' (thanks for the morphine Sean), Ian and Sheila were besides themselves with Joy. Joy was besides Ian and Sheila, Richy Rick was knackered and so was the engine. Oh yes. The engine. Bad news. It knocks like an Emirates hostesses headboard, despite having access to far more lubricant. So after all that hard work, it appears that excrement may have struck the rotary airflow displacement device with considerable velocity. All indications are that 'it's reet buggered' as Rick would say, if only he'd stop eating for 5 minutes. And you know when people are using indications in the UAE, something's seriously wrong. Nobody uses their indications.

So that's that. I'm awaiting more news from t'bivvy but there's trouble at t'mill. And on that bombshell, here's a joke.

A grasshopper walks into a bar, jumps up onto a bar stool and asks the barman for a pint.

"Blimey" says the barman, "why order a pint when we've got drink named after you?"

The grasshopper looks at him quizzically and says "Seriously, you've got a drink called Graham?"


And on that note, I'll get my coat. Aaaarrrrr.
 

Tension mounts. And falls off again.

Richard decided to teach me a lesson today, sending me a message minutes before Ian and Sheila set off. “One cyclinder mis-firing, suspect HT lead”. Great, just what you need to start the day with a smile. It’s just his way of letting me know that not all updates are necessary! Ian had correctly diagnosed the fault on the way to the Start line (here’s a tip Ian, next time, do that sort of thing driving to the bivouac after the Finish please) so it was a nail biting 4 hours of desert driving before they could stop at the service point in the deepest, darkest corner of Liwa. Actually, if we’re being honest, it’s really quite well lit down there at mid-day.



Richard Bailey. Top Bloke. Dodgy Overalls.

 Then Richard “Is than an HT lead in your pocket or are you just shocked to see me?” Bailey leapt into action, ripping the bonnet off with his bare hands and, having thus rid himself of the silly frilly lace up headgear he was wearing, shouted instructions at Ian as he got to work replacing the lead. But he had his back turned (see legal notice below) There was high tension in the air, which was a shame because it’s supposed to go down the cable from the coil to the spark plug, so having then remembered to put the other end onto the plug, Ian slammed the bonnet shut, gave Sheila the thumbs up and said “Let’s go love, she’s Champion”. “That’s odd” replied Sheila as the doggy duo drove desert wise in the direction of a daunting day’s duning destiny “I could have sworn they were NGKs”

Legal Notice

At no point during the “It’s not a Service Stop” did any members of the crew other than Ian or Sheila touch the car. Nobody else approached the car, looked in the general direction of the car, nor knowingly admitted the presence of a race car which may, or may not, have resembed a blue Nissan Patrol, had they in fact seen it. Which they didn’t. Because they weren’t there. They were sat next to me in Dubai at the time and I have three witnesses to that fact, only one of whom could be legally defined as being pathologically inebriated at the time. But the other two are trustworthy(ish) enough.

Legal Not Notice

Don’t worry, personal joke. You had to be there. But we weren’t there. Were we lads…..


Anyway, back to the thickening plot. With a woosh and a wave and a cheery parp parp (I blame the brussels) Ian and Sheila hurtled forth into the sandy bits, where they, um, got stuck about 45 seconds after the “Not a Service Stop”. Not to worry thought Ian, I’ll just get the car free and. Err, oh bugger. Ok well now I’ll get it free from this bit and erm… Well anyway, the view from the top of the dune was

The enitre SAR squadron, grounded. They wooden fly.

good and the radio reception meant that Sheila could get up to date with The Archers, but soon Ian was back in the car and off they jolly well trundled. If 125kmh on sand can be described as trundling. Which it can, in much the same way as falling out of a plane can be described as ‘a bit of a bump’. Speaking of industrial accidents, poor Malcolm and Patrick fell foul of a rather sad situation at the Not a Service Stop. Because so many medical evacuations had to be made (10% of the competitors had accidents today!), the helicopter refueling bowser at the nearest hospital (I know it well and have counted the ceiling tiles there for hours) was drained of its contents. In the words of Bob Marley “No Avgas no fly” and if No Fly then No Medics and no medics means that a lot of competitors who arrived shortly after Ian and Sheila departed the area, were told to return to the bivouac on tarmac and take a time penalty. Boo hiss. And STILL no cheerleaders.

Anyway at that moment Richard and Fred lost satellite reception. More precisely, I had to go and do a product demonstration 30kms from the office, so was unable to send Richard my customary “It’s two minutes since I last sent you an update as to their whereabouts” message. I would imagine Richard and Fred were frankly rather grateful. They were tension free for hours, much like the old spark plug lead.

When I returned to the office (yes, the demo went well, Thank You for asking) Ian and Sheila were just minutes from the finish line, having endured a 20 minute stuck about an hour earlier. Just imagine if during that time, a passing Khazakranianslav TV crew had been passing and offered their assistance. What a moral dilemma our glorious role models would have been faced with. Do we wave them on cheerily despite our exhaustion, or do we ask them to tow us out? Thankfully, no such event occurred, which was lucky.

Legal Notice

It just didn’t. Alright.

Ian and Sheila crossed the finish line at 4.20pm having started out at 9.45am in 39th place and finished in 21st place on the day. Coincidentally they will start out 21st overall tomorrow. Apparently before the start tomorrow, Nissan’s PR team are interviewing Ian and Sheila. Quite the media darlings now aren't they? Deny EVERYTHING guys & gals. You weren’t there. And I have the GPS data to prove it.

So another day duned and Ian and Sheila are ready to face Day Three tomorrow. They could probably do Day Four to be honest, but that would mess up everyone’s schedules, so Three it is. As I write, Richard is servicing the car (he’s allowed to in the bivouac – FIA regulations clearly state that he is) and Fred is beavering away. Presumably making dams out of pine trees.

RIP Iron Lady.

Dune Roamin'

Having spoken to Ian a few minutes ago, I’m happy to say that he’s in MUCH better spirits than he was yesterday. The modifications to the bonnet (there’s that word again) combined with the goat deflecting chicken wire (no animals were hurt in the making of today’s rally stage) have helped reduce the engine bay temperature, leading to far fewer occasions when the ECU picked up the ball, cut out 4 cylinders and refused to play.

Unfortunately on one of the few occasions when it DID decide to pack up, even though the car was on level ground at the time, Ian described the sand there as being “as soft as silt”. At least, I think that’s what he said - there was a bit of a crackle on the line at the time. Consequently the car immediately sank into the ‘soft silt’, necessitating the use of sand ladders under the front wheels, and a further reduction in tyre pressures. This cost Ian and Sheila 5 to 10 minutes delay but Ian felt the car drove a lot better from then on thanks to the lower pressures, so they soon made up the lost time, and then some.

Sheila unfortunately was feeling a bit under the weather for much of the first half of the day. Speaking from personal experience I know that the particular dunes they were driving early on had a strange effect on my stomach too when I was co-driving. There must be something about the pitch of the dunes in that section because it was from the same area that I was airlifted out in 2006 due to dehydration as a result of constant vomiting. Sorry but that’s the glamorous life of a co-driver for you. Sheila too ‘fed the fish’ a few times today but being a great trooper (as opposed to a State Trooper – different hats) she Percy Veered. No giving up and taking a helicopter ride for her, oh no. I shall never be able to look her in the eye again. I out wimped her.

At one point Ian stopped the car next to long time friend and off roading companion Alan Passmore in one of the Sweep cars, hoping that he might have a medic on board. You’d have thought that with his wife in the car feeling unwell, Ian would be able to resist chatting up the nurses for just ONE morning, but apparently not! Unfortunately there was no pretty nurse on board, but John Tan, bless his little cotton socks, was carrying some travel sickness tablets (he’d obviously traveled with Alan before) and he was able to administer life saving medication to Sheila. Rumours that John was in fact wearing a nurse’s uniform at the time remain unconfirmed at this juncture. That’ll be Dh 500 then John - Thanks.

So with no further ado, Newtrix bid Alan and his Ward Sister adieu, and sped off again. Soon they were in faster sections with some steep climbs and Ian had time to enjoy the massive torque of the 5.7 litre V8 Chevrolet engine pulling the Patrol along at full speed. When you consider the amount of money he’s spent on an engine rebuild and additional components for the block, if he ever tries to tell you that torque is cheap, don’t believe a word of it.

At the service point they stopped to fix a broken exhaust hanger which was causing the rear exhaust can to thrash around violently under the vehicle. After waiting for hours in the glaring sunshine, Rick was delighted to be able crawl under the shade of the car, cover himself in dust and oil, burn his hands on the exhaust pipe and wish Ian and Sheila “a pleasant onward journey”. What a nice bloke. Did he get a tip? Did he heck.

And so their Dognesses pounded on through the desert, occasionally overtaking vehicles which one might have reasonably expected to able to run faster than Newtrix, but with Ian’s ebullient attitude and incomparable driving skills matched only by Sheila’s faultless navigation, they strove forth in search of glory. Damn. This is good stuff!

However their goal of racing across the finish at PC 5 was not to be – for safety’s sake the organisers will sometimes insist that cars which reach earlier PCs after a certain time limit, must return directly to the bivouac by a more direct route, usually on a combination of gatch and tarmac roads. It means that tired drivers do not end up lost in the middle of no-where late into the evening, thus reducing the load on the Sweep and Rescue teams. Unfortunately Ian and Sheila, along with the vast majority of the field, were subject to such instructions at PC4, meaning that they drove back to the bivouac under the veil of receiving maximum penalties on the day. At the time of writing this blog I know that many drivers who were ‘time barred’ today feel that they have been dealt a rough hand in view of the fact that crews who arrived at PC4 in say, 5 hours, will receive the same ‘maximum’ time (typically 9 hours) on their time sheets as those who made it to PC4 in 7 hours for example. This has been put to the FIA adjudicators and it may be that tomorrow we receive some good news in that respect. Fingers crossed.

So a good day for all – smiles all round.

News on other local racers: Team Saluki put on an impressive display today and are currently in second place overall. Their highest ever race position. Mabrook guys. Dave Mabbs managed to somehow plant the FJ Cruiser on its nose so heavily that he rearranged every component on the front end of the vehicle yet amazingly, not damage the radiator. So whilst he drove it back to the bivouac, it’s currently undergoing major rhinoplasty. Nurse, more swabs please. Where is John Tan when you need him?

Emile and Patrick in Emile’s hand crafted err, vehicle, managed to pitch pole it onto the roof. No-one was hurt thankfully, but by pulling the vehicle onto its side using an on board winch, they flattened the battery so were unable to winch it onto its wheels. It has now been recovered and is back at base camp. Malcolm and Mark in their “Ansell chassis Dune Raider” had another strong day and are running well. I’ll take credit for that thanks.

Until tomorrow. “Walkies”