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The Isle-of-Manlove


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This year, for the first time ever, I got bored of the Nürburgring. I didn’t make my annual trip to that over-hyped, over-priced and over-crowded corner of Rheinland-Pfalz with Dr Octane and some iffy insurance. I still needed a fix of fast fun though. Dr Octane and I had blagged the use of a MINI, no the caps lock isn’t stuck on and I’m not shouting, since Fritz took over the mini is a MINI. Our destination was a long and largely de-limited loop of entertaining Public roads a short but choppy Ferry ride away; The Isle of Man TT circuit. Some friends met us at Heysham Ferry Terminal and we compared metal. Our MINI (sorry) Roadster John Cooper Works, to give it it’s full title, was met by a similarly slinky Alfa Romeo Spider, a Maserati 222 with an interior looking (and smelling) like a pair of Peter Stringfellow’s undercrackers and a Ford Fiesta Zetec in appliance white. As we piled onto the ferry, an ‘ard looking biker with a face seemingly assembled from offcuts cast his eye over our group of little sportscars. “What do you reckon ?” I asked. “Gay as f*ck”. And so, with some foreboding, we set sail for the Isle-of-Manlove.

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