Hello once again my beloved blog fans. It is some while since I have been putting finger to keyboard and addressing my inner thoughts to you, but you know, quite honestly and obviously I think I have turned round a corner.
I had a lot of fun at the Monaco Grand Prix with a man I am now going to award a nickname. You all know about Lieblings Donut Pudgie Wudgie Face - which is the nickname for the woman I adore. So, who do you think El Gloomio could be? Here is a clue, he has got stick-on eyebrows made from black electrical insulating tape. And as the Mercedes mechanics like to sing to the Abba tune: "There was something in the air that night - your car was shite - Fernando..."
The highlight of my weekend in Monaco was overtaking him before the Anthony Nogues corner. He didn't want me to get past him and I got past. And that made him El Gloomio. I don't care that they took away my points. After the race someone asked me if it mattered, but does a mountain cry when a little bit of rock is chipped off its bottom?
Having a huge total of points doesn't mean to say you have been a fabulous driver. After all, David Coulthard has scored more points than any other British driver. You see my point? Quite honestly and obviously I didn't see my points after Monaco, but it was a fun race.
On to Turkey and this is a good result also, with a little bit of Jenson jostling to be enjoyed on the opening lap and a fine finish ahead of Nico.
Though you may be letting your bacon sandwich fall to the floor (one of Nick Fry's favourite sayings) I can look you in the eye and tell you with a straight face - or as straight as it's ever going to be - that the Canadian GP was also a big blast for me.
It is fun to rub bodywork with the young lions of the sport, even though this young Polish lion resembles Peter Townshend looking into a spoon. Crashing with all the best drivers is what I did when I came into F1 - like Ayrton and Nigel - and it never did me any harm.
I'm surprised he hasn't crashed with more people because he is as mad as a fish on a bicycle. No person with normal sensibleness would have put their wheels on the grass to get past The Schum where he did. And if ever proof were needed, look at the entry to the pitlane he made cutting in front of Adrian like he was a woman driver in a busy supermarket car park who had just spotted a space.
Of course our tangling did not have the outcome I would have hoped for after our joint excursion across the grass, because the puncture gave me new tyres too early, but it was a challenge to keep them together.
Later in the race, when Felipe tried to get past, he made a very bad mistake by trying to pass on the outside at the end of the rear straight. The second I saw him move over to the left I thought, hello, this is one lap where I can stick the brakes on early. At the time I was defenceless as a poor litlle frightened kitten, so I am very surprised to read the 'Ruthless Schumi Sabotages Ferrari' headlines afterwards.
Once Felipe is gone I had the two Force Indias knocking on my door for points and because Tonio Liuzzi didn't know how to get past my skilfull track positioning he decided that the best way would be to pretend we are in a banger race in old Vauxhall Omegas and give me a barge. It may have worked for him in the short term, but they say he who laughs last, laughs for a considerable time more in the future. I think I will visit Paul di Resta's manager and offer him some personal tuition.
Finally to show I am sorry to get tangled with Felipe, The Comedy Schu has thought up an Italian joke to please my former tifosi worshippers, here is one that I dedicate to all my friends in Maranello.
Q: What do you call an Italian with a rubber toe?
A: Roberto.
It is the way, them, I am telling.
Love and kisses
Schumi
loled.