Crown (Birmingham)

Michael Schumacher (Formula 1)

Ach du liebe zeit! Look what they did to my car!

A joke? Apparently not.

“Look Michael, you’re not getting any younger,” that’s what the guys at Maranello told me.

“We need to ensure you have all the ‘support’ you need if you’re going to return to F1.”

Well here’s some news for you, Herr Montezemolo. I’m not racing in that heap of junk. There’s no way I’d make the podium  (I’d probably struggle to finish in front of the hopeless Nelson Piquet Junior).

So, here's the deal. If this ex-world champ is going to get smashed in the next few weeks, it’ll be in home of boozing – an English bar - not in a vehicle that makes me look like your British TV star Victor Meldrew.

What about the strained neck thing, you ask? Pah! Just PR to save their lousy faces. About as credible as believing I – the great Regenmeister - would spend months in a daft suit, racing round a track for your ridiculous Top Gear programme. 

Ja, der Regenmeister! I take it you recall I was a genius in the wet? Maybe so, but did you know this reputation came not from my prowess in a racing car?

So sorry to disappoint; another PR myth you see.

I was christened Regenmeister by fellow drivers, thanks to the second essential ingredient for any true F1 champion; being ready willing and able to go boozing, whatever the weather.

So different from many so-called winners. First hint of a downpour and they’d swerve a night in a bar in less time than BMW took to bottle-out of F1.

“Oooh Michael, I think the rain’s coming; I don’t want to mess up my hair.”

“Sorry Herr Schumacher; I’ll have to give it a miss; the lady’s worried about her Jimmy Choos.”

Pathetic!

That’s why I come to Birmingham, England. To show I’ve still got what it takes; forget the Ferrari; tonight I’ll get my real fix of power – power boozing that is.

* Truly, I am enjoying your barbeque summer (ha ha, who says we Germans have no sense of humour) in the home of your thriving auto industry (see - another little joke) * 

They told me it’s always pouring down with rain in this town and they weren’t wrong. Birmingham is wetter and greyer than an open-top bus tour of Scotland, with top-deck crammed with fishwives.

But I am not worried. I have found an oasis amid the gloom, to help me forget what those schweinhunds did to my beautiful car.

The Crown! It is a fine pub indeed. The name befits a man with seven Formula 1 world titles. I will sit solo here for many hours I think, downing pint after pint of fine Carling secure in the knowledge that, even now, no driver comes close to me, at least in the après-racing stakes. Space, high ceilings, arm chairs and an attentive barmaid; that’s all this seven-times world champion needs.

As for my old chums at Maranello; a simple message - with echoes of your famous drinking champion Winston Churchill I am thinking:

You’ve got some neck presenting the great Michael Schumacher with that vehicle.

Michael Schumacher’s rating for the Crown – 8 / 10

Sputnikski 

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