RedBull-ocks
Saturday and sunday saw the London leg of the Redbull Air race, and after a whole pile of blagging, emailing and form filling I mangaged to get the 11th down there. So myself and a rough looking Remy rolled up at to start with completely the wrong tube station in east London, the the right one via a pasty to find a sufficient lack of excitement.
We hung around, did a few shos, interviewed the event organiser, but not getting the gold that we wanted, time with the best of the best, the guys who would shit all over Miramar, Iceman and wouldn’t even entertain Kelly Mcguiness’s advances. Problem was that they were all getting prepared for flying through gates at 230 mph 10 ft off the ground. I mean why would they need to get in the zone for that? Ponces.
I shan’t go into what we filmed at the air show other than we did get (some) interviews and that the Army helicopter shat all over the navy one.
Keep an eye out for this episode in the next couple of weeks and I shall leave you with something that I’ve posted before - Quentin Tarrantino’s interpretation of Topgun. And the top gun theme as well. Whats a blog with out some homo erotic behavior eh?
