The Day I Won The Salford Grand Prix

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“Hey, where are you going with the champagne?” “To my hotel, to enjoy it with my girlfriend, Charlene. Why? What’s the problem?” “You can’t do that!” “Yes I can. I won it. It’s mine. What business is it of yours what I do with it?” “But Arthur, you have to open it here on the winner’s podium, now, and spray it about over everyone. It’s a Grand Prix tradition.” “It’s a waste of a perfectly good champagne. I’m not doing that. It’s my prize, so I’m taking it home. When you win, feel free to throw your prize all over yourself and have only an empty bottle to enjoy. Mine’s coming with me. Bye.” “The Champers isn’t your prize. The cup and the money are your prize – the Champagne is a symbolic gift for you to splash around extravagantly.” “Oh come on, it’s a 2009 Don Perignone. If I wanted to waste it, I’d be pouring a cheap plonk about, besides, popping the cork with so many people around could end up taking someone’s eye out.” “Arthur, the racing rules demand you open the Champagne here. Come on. Let me help you” “Hey, Get off! Let go… oh no, you made me drop it. It’s broken.” “I’m sorry. Hey, don’t hit me…” And so, Arthur became the first racing driver to also take up bare-knuckle boxing. He still takes any booze he wins home with him. Arthur Chappell