We played up to our new-kid-on-the-block status. Much the same as Red Bull later, Leyton House became the jokers of the pit lane. One night, one of our mechanics emptied what must have been a gallon of washing-up liquid into the fountains at the entrance to the circuit. We returned the next day to a scene out of the movies. There were soap suds everywhere. Huge, shifting mountains of washing-up bubbles, like some kind of blob-like monster attempting to consume Imola. I’m not exaggerating; it was so big they had to close the road. Police were called. They knew that one of the teams was behind
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