Carbon Black: Diamonds and a Scandalous Lack of Donuts

After five furious days on the merry-go-round of wheel-party-sleep-wheel-party-sleep, our whirlygig gems have arrived triumphant in Milan. I received a report from the Flying Dutchman as I sloped in my office this afternoon. Picture the scene: Penny – Friday afternoon, UK grey skies, restrained in hell with fluorescent lighting and project deadlines looming; The Dutchman: “On my way to Milan now. Driving with Joe in the BMW 6 convertible. Driving in a pack with 14, 7, 15, 16 and the white M5. Average speed about 110 mph, top 220 kmhâ€?. I felt, as we say in Britannia, proper seethingly jealous.

Apparently, the very lovely BMW boys allowed the Dutch Nutter to take the helm…… how brave you are, you delicious wee treacles. I’m undoubtedly pleased to report that he managed to accomplish his duties without incident, and the testosteronally-functional trio arrived safely in Milan!

Colonel Donut, Lonman, flew in to the finish, along with Manchester’s finest, Ant Howarth, and the unsung cyber-heroine, Ingrid, to round up the rally that grew from a spectacular baby to a full blown motor monster in such a short span of time. Rumour has it that Lonman failed to achieve a proper burn out behind the wheel tonight and has resorted to the bottle to console himself. Lonman, honey, explain yourself…… I’m still expecting a hardcore Donut-Off between your good self and several other Carbonites to settle the score. I vicariously throw the gauntlet down. This is a gauntlet I expect you to grind into the dust with your tyres.

Tonight, the Carbon Black intensifies to its explosive end party. Milan is about to learn the meaning of Metal Mania; a party which will carry the Tribe through until dawn and beyond. This isn’t the end of Carbon Black; it’s just the beginning.

The first page of the Carbon Black book is a cheeky speeding ticket; the second may resemble this:

“In the beginning Nods created the Carbon and the Black.

Now the Black was without shape and empty, and darkness was over the surface of the deep Carbon, but the Spirit of Nods was moving over the surface and saw an opportunity. Nods said, “Let there be beer.� And there was beer! Nods saw that the beer was good, so Nods threw a big old party. Nods called the beer “mine� and the other liquor “theirs.� There was evening, and there was morning, marking the first day. Nods thought the beer a little lonely on its own, so he invented some smashing lovely cars.

Nods said, “Let there be an expanse of tarmac in the midst of the lands and let’s separate the lands from water. So Nods made Europe his stomping ground. It was so. Nods looked down, and it was stormin’. But not stormin’ enough. So Nods created monster parties. The beer and the cars adored the monster parties. It was so. There was evening, and there was morning, a second day. And a third, fourth and fifth. Nods looked down on all he had created; and he was bloody well pleased with himself.�