Scumball 2007

SIGN HERE PLEASE, BRIEFING IS AT 7PM – AUGUST 2007

We started, as usual, in Nottingham... A couple of pints, pretend to listen to Omi for 20 minutes while he tells everyone not to be naughty, then food, beer, more beer and out to the car park for a sneaky smoke and a bit of vandalism before turning in for the night.

It should be pointed out that "Honk for Gay Rights" looks great on the back of a Police van. I'm just glad the boys in blue had left us to it when the explosives started. Fireworks under cars, in cars, outside hotel windows at 3am... And a taxi to the airport for someone. Scumball 2007 was going to be silly!

Donington Park at 8am is empty and quiet, you can hear birds singing. Donington Park at 8:30am is full of hungover folks belting around Melbourne Loop sideways. If you listen carefully you can hear the chirruping of the Lesser-Spotted GTi Turbo... After the bad behaviour of the Irish in 2006 we were lucky to be allowed back to Donington, this year everyone behaved impeccably. Race Control said we could come back anytime, as they’d not laughed that hard in ages!

Straight down to Dover and some genius has moved the entire ferry port. Most of us made it with ages to spare and got down to annoying anyone with a CB radio nearby and trying to work out if that temperature gauge was just kidding about the red section. We almost got rid of a student on the ferry when he jumped over the guard rail, but had to settle with prawns in their heater intake. – Old prawns. From a sealed bag kept warm for a week. – Scumball isn’t the time to upset someone by being a ponce, I’m afraid.

When you can smell onions, garlic and burning gearbox oil, it’s safe to assume you’ve made it off the ferry and almost to Belgium. Turns out that posh new Audis are leakier than some 20-year old French rot-boxes! – Never seen a French car hit the electronic speed limiter though.

I’d like to point out that Belgium has only three redeeming features: 1) It is closer to the Nürburgring than the UK is. 2) A little restaurant close to the NATO buildings run by an English lady. 3) One night per year, it becomes a place of wonder and excitement.

Namely; "I wonder who stole that picture" "I wonder who left all their oil on the floor in the car park" "I’m excited to tell you that your Group will no longer be welcome at this hotel"

It was a shit-hole anyway... But their lack of parking did provide the highlight of the night. Lift an MR-2 off the ground and slide concrete blocks under the back so the wheels are barely off the floor, then watch and laugh as the bemused owner tries to drive away!

We stopped in Eupen again this year, and I suspect we’ll stop there every year. – Nice little town to stop and have a cool bier in the sunshine, grab lunch and prepare for the awesome country roads down into Deutschland and our ultimate aim, the Nürburgring.

Note to Travellers: Do not decorate your car with blue strobes and Polizei graphics in homage to Alex Roy. The German police seem to think you're not taking things entirely seriously and may want to ask you a few questions. – Much better to dive into your nearest underground car park and tear them off while they look for you outside. We love the 'Ring. Scumball could go anywhere and we may venture to other places sometime, but the Nordschliefe has become the spiritual home of the event. – The marshalls recognise us, the track instructors compliment our standard of behaviour and driving, even the famous Sabine Schmidt can be seen sporting a Scumball t-shirt and following Omi around like a lost puppy. (Well, he was standing on the Toll and she kept coming back to see him...)

2007 saw our first experience of rain at the 'Ring. – Whilst all the local hardcore nutters parked up and grabbed a bratwurst, Scumballers decided this would be the perfect time to get a few more laps in. These lobotomy patients came back unscathed, although we’d already lost a Volvo (blown engine), an Audi (spin and resulting flat tyre) and an Omega (last corner, pillock!).

The Dorint am Nürburgring hotel was, as usual, great. – Some of us were lucky enough to get trackside rooms so we could watch the VLN Endurance racing completely naked on the balcony. Evenings could be spent in the hotel bar with Michael Jackson gloves on, or in the nearby pizza-bar with entertainment provided by Tomfish. Click here to watch, VERY strong language. Don’t watch if you live next door to Tomfish either.

We all piled into Nürburg for Steak Argentina once again and rounded off a great stay by dragging The Duisberg Kid out of his hotel room and into the glass elevator in his yellow-stained y-fronts for all to see. – He got a little upset about this when he realised we had no intention of then tying him up and bumming him.

We came home through France, stopping off at the remains of the 1956 French Grand Prix circuit near Riems. The pit complex has recently been freshly re-painted and looks awesome, there were poignant moments as Scumball entrants sat quietly on the old grandstand opposite, until the peace was broken by the thunderclap of a Golf GTi Turbo blasting through at barely subsonic velocity! – This led to the funniest prank of the event, with a volunteer fake off-duty French Gendarme suggesting a bribe from the speeding VW driver, (name rhymes with whiff,) before taking him down to the police station to deal with the matter. Cue hilarity as everyone realised the prank was busted and the prankster ran away like a girlie so 'whiff' didn’t deck him.

Recipe for Instant Pothole: Take 1 American pushrod V8. Add overheating. Drive hard until oil is vaporising and car smokes blue. Drain oil onto layby. – If done correctly, the oil should melt a hole straight through the tarmac. – Engine will likely never run again.

We stayed on the outskirts of Paris for the final night, the beer was expensive, and I discovered crème brûlée tastes like toasted scrambled egg with cream cheese. – But someone managed to get a key for the students’ room and they got assaulted with pillows in the dead of night.

And the Piston Bud boys grazed their knees racing trolleys in the car park.

And Mrs_Omi shouted at the naughty boys.

Hopped back across the Channel in time for everyone to get home and dished out super-tacky trophies to a few teams for outstanding contributions to Scumball and charity donations, with a few free entries for 2008 awarded to recognise their hard work.

And that’s only what I saw and know about, there was much more! I’m not surprised everyone was so excited!

made by mook™

		SIGN HERE PLEASE, BRIEFING IS AT 7PM – AUGUST 2007 We started, as usual, in Nottingham... A couple of pints, pretend to listen to Omi for 20 minutes while he tells everyone not to be naughty, then food, beer, more beer and out to the car park for a sneaky smoke and a bit of vandalism before turning in for the night. It should be pointed out that "Honk for Gay Rights" looks great on the back of a Police van. I'm just glad the boys in blue had left us to it when the explosives started. Fireworks under cars, in cars, outside hotel windows at 3am... And a taxi to the airport for someone. Scumball 2007 was going to be silly! Donington Park at 8am is empty and quiet, you can hear birds singing. Donington Park at 8:30am is full of hungover folks belting around Melbourne Loop sideways. If you listen carefully you can hear the chirruping of the Lesser-Spotted GTi Turbo... After the bad behaviour of the Irish in 2006 we were lucky to be allowed back to Donington, this year everyone behaved impeccably. Race Control said we could come back anytime, as they’d not laughed that hard in ages! Straight down to Dover and some genius has moved the entire ferry port. Most of us made it with ages to spare and got down to annoying anyone with a CB radio nearby and trying to work out if that temperature gauge was just kidding about the red section. We almost got rid of a student on the ferry when he jumped over the guard rail, but had to settle with prawns in their heater intake. – Old prawns. From a sealed bag kept warm for a week. – Scumball isn’t the time to upset someone by being a ponce, I’m afraid. When you can smell onions, garlic and burning gearbox oil, it’s safe to assume you’ve made it off the ferry and almost to Belgium. Turns out that posh new Audis are leakier than some 20-year old French rot-boxes! – Never seen a French car hit the electronic speed limiter though. I’d like to point out that Belgium has only three redeeming features: 1) It is closer to the Nürburgring than the UK is. 2) A little restaurant close to the NATO buildings run by an English lady. 3) One night per year, it becomes a place of wonder and excitement. Namely; "I wonder who stole that picture" "I wonder who left all their oil on the floor in the car park" "I’m excited to tell you that your Group will no longer be welcome at this hotel" It was a shit-hole anyway... But their lack of parking did provide the highlight of the night. Lift an MR-2 off the ground and slide concrete blocks under the back so the wheels are barely off the floor, then watch and laugh as the bemused owner tries to drive away! We stopped in Eupen again this year, and I suspect we’ll stop there every year. – Nice little town to stop and have a cool bier in the sunshine, grab lunch and prepare for the awesome country roads down into Deutschland and our ultimate aim, the Nürburgring. Note to Travellers: Do not decorate your car with blue strobes and Polizei graphics in homage to Alex Roy. The German police seem to think you're not taking things entirely seriously and may want to ask you a few questions. – Much better to dive into your nearest underground car park and tear them off while they look for you outside. We love the 'Ring. Scumball could go anywhere and we may venture to other places sometime, but the Nordschliefe has become the spiritual home of the event. – The marshalls recognise us, the track instructors compliment our standard of behaviour and driving, even the famous Sabine Schmidt can be seen sporting a Scumball t-shirt and following Omi around like a lost puppy. (Well, he was standing on the Toll and she kept coming back to see him...) 2007 saw our first experience of rain at the 'Ring. – Whilst all the local hardcore nutters parked up and grabbed a bratwurst, Scumballers decided this would be the perfect time to get a few more laps in. These lobotomy patients came back unscathed, although we’d already lost a Volvo (blown engine), an Audi (spin and resulting flat tyre) and an Omega (last corner, pillock!). The Dorint am Nürburgring hotel was, as usual, great. – Some of us were lucky enough to get trackside rooms so we could watch the VLN Endurance racing completely naked on the balcony. Evenings could be spent in the hotel bar with Michael Jackson gloves on, or in the nearby pizza-bar with entertainment provided by Tomfish. Click here to watch, VERY strong language. Don’t watch if you live next door to Tomfish either. We all piled into Nürburg for Steak Argentina once again and rounded off a great stay by dragging The Duisberg Kid out of his hotel room and into the glass elevator in his yellow-stained y-fronts for all to see. – He got a little upset about this when he realised we had no intention of then tying him up and bumming him. We came home through France, stopping off at the remains of the 1956 French Grand Prix circuit near Riems. The pit complex has recently been freshly re-painted and looks awesome, there were poignant moments as Scumball entrants sat quietly on the old grandstand opposite, until the peace was broken by the thunderclap of a Golf GTi Turbo blasting through at barely subsonic velocity! – This led to the funniest prank of the event, with a volunteer fake off-duty French Gendarme suggesting a bribe from the speeding VW driver, (name rhymes with whiff,) before taking him down to the police station to deal with the matter. Cue hilarity as everyone realised the prank was busted and the prankster ran away like a girlie so 'whiff' didn’t deck him. Recipe for Instant Pothole: Take 1 American pushrod V8. Add overheating. Drive hard until oil is vaporising and car smokes blue. Drain oil onto layby. – If done correctly, the oil should melt a hole straight through the tarmac. – Engine will likely never run again. We stayed on the outskirts of Paris for the final night, the beer was expensive, and I discovered crème brûlée tastes like toasted scrambled egg with cream cheese. – But someone managed to get a key for the students’ room and they got assaulted with pillows in the dead of night. And the Piston Bud boys grazed their knees racing trolleys in the car park. And Mrs_Omi shouted at the naughty boys. Hopped back across the Channel in time for everyone to get home and dished out super-tacky trophies to a few teams for outstanding contributions to Scumball and charity donations, with a few free entries for 2008 awarded to recognise their hard work. And that’s only what I saw and know about, there was much more! I’m not surprised everyone was so excited!
made by mook™		Copyright 2006-2008 Scumball. All rights reserved.