So,as I began to explain yesterday, I called my staff around and announced a ' Factory Fun Day', this was greeted by stoney silence and blank stares.However once I assured everyone this was not a joke and they would still get paid, the joy spread like wildfire and everyone was behind me all the way,everyone that is except ' Tailspin '. I should explain at this juncture, working with so many aircraft as we do, it is natural to have favourites, I have never been shy about my love for the Spitfire. Tailspin tends to favour whatever we're building at the moment as he'll get to fly it, however his love for the Bf109 has gotten out of hand, more so since his Time Tunnel experience. He takes every opportunity to point out 'this bit's better', 'this bit's stronger' and 'this bit's smoother' than a Spit.It's not hard to prove he's wrong and he goes off in a huff to think up another barb.Well my Fun Day idea set him off again, "Aha!" he proclaimed, "you're dragging your heels now, you KNOW this is going to be better than a Spitfire"!...It was early, I'd only had six cups of coffee and to my ever lasting shame, I snapped.The hanger fell silent and all eyes turned to me as I yelled "THAT'S IT....WE SETTLE THIS ONCE AND FOR ALL"! A grin spread across Tailspins lips "How"? he asked, my mind raced searching for an answer, what had I done? "We'll have a race", I knew I'd said it but what was I thinking? The grin faded, replaced by a confused frown, I was being too general. I looked around, praying for inspiration, I saw the orange trolley, a sea of questioning faces, the orange trolley, Tailspin, the grin trying to make a return, the orange trolley..." a Messerschmitt v Spitfire race"..the grin hit the floor, Tailspin hit the roof. "NO! not fare, you have a Griffon engined MKXXIV out there, I've only got an ' E' ". Now I'm not stupid, if I gave Tailspin a Sopwith Camel, and got the X-15 down off it's pole, he'd still fly me into the ground." not an air race" I said, "a cockpit race", the grin gave up, packed an overnight bag and left, Tailspin stood,trying to grasp some clue as to what the hell ! I was talking about.I should point out, the orange trolley that had so beset my vision is used in modular construction.We place a cockpit floor in the frame and build up the cockpit.It is then wheeled under the fusilage, jacked up and secured.We were going to have a 'soapbox derby' for grown ups, grown ups, as it turned out with less common sense than your average pre-pubesant Schumacker.With hindsight, I could have thought this through a little better, but I was on a roll ! Once I explained the plan, Tailspin cheered up no end, this sort of thing appeals to test pilots, another oversight on my part.I further improved his mood by having the cockpit dropped out of the now defunked 'Gustav'. A trolley was dispatched to the stores and a Spitfire cockpit secured to it.With our high tech soapbox racers hitched behind 4x4s and the staff following in a Deuce and a half, borrowed from General Manager, we set off for the 'track'.The best straight'ish incline in the area starts at the top of Highbrompton Hill, known locally as 'Brokeback Mountain' or 'Cardiac Ridge'. It ends at the gates of Saint Barnabus The Blasphemers, parish cemetry, I began to feel this might be appropriate. I settled into my cockpit and secured my harness, after tapping a few gauges and further tightening my harness, I offered up a silent prayer to whomever might be the Patron Saint of the 'Barking Mad'. I looked across at Tailspin, he had a manic look in his eyes, and he was blowing a continuous raspberry to simulate the sound of his missing engine, the mad bugger was actually enjoying this.I realised I desperately needed a 'pee', just as the gentlest of nudges moved both our 'racers' over the start line......as our momentum increased so did the pitch of Tailspins raspberry engine, he began to edge ahead........ M.O.M by Powerage..