Duisberg was born in a layby just outside the Mediterranean resort of Skegness in the back of a Ford Anglia in 1972, the lovechild son of a Nazi rocket scientist and a Gypsy woman, Duisberg was born with a shock of ginger hair, and his parents tried to drown him in a bucket. Recovering from this, he went on to achieve mediocre results at his local school, where he also discovered beer, girls and fags. He was thoroughly disappointed to find that they had all already been discovered by someone else and sulked for a bit. He went on a have a fine career selling thingies for a group of alcoholic Vikings, until they went bust, although who knows what he actually does now to pay the bills. He is currently doing strange things to himself, and posting the results on youtube. He hates the Daily Mail, once appeared on Crimewatch, and is nocturnal. Resident of the Ringpiece (Leicestershire's most prestigious address), he is happily married to Mrs Duisberg (crack-whore, ra-ra dancer and groupie to the stars), and has 3 feral children who live on raw meat and pond water. He often acts as mediator in Brummie v Student disputes, and will sell his soul for a cold beer and/or a £5 donation to charity. Duisberg's racing achievements are endless, including a 11 minutes 30 seconds lap of the Nurburging in a decrepit MX5, making Penny Mallory squeal at Oulton Park, crashing rather a lot at Donington, and erm.... well thats it really. Duisberg would like to be a train driver when he grows up, but would probably manage to crash that too. Duisberg is the co-driver of Team Chernobyl Racing and Team Wolfsburg Wolfbaggers, and takes care of the organizational stuff, charity work, and colouring in. (Edited to add - Duisberg is now working for Chelfing Automotive, apparrently - http://www.chelfing.com/).
Bootsy was built from pig iron, margerine and some carpet remnants, shortly after the end of the Vietnam war. Programmed to kill kill kill, his ability on a rugby field were second to none, and there he met lifelong buddy, Duisberg. School was uneventful, and time was spent honing his drinking, cigar smoking, snooker and crochet skills. Upon leaving school, he worked for the family firm, turning up 23 years late to fit a tap washer than once leaked. His choice of motors was impressive, starting with a Dolomite Sprint that self-ignited, he moved on to a Yellow Metro (obviously confused about his sexual orientation), which was scrapped, followed by a Midas kitcar and other 'left-field' motors. Recently engaged to the charming Carol, he resides in a palatial work-in-progress terraced house in the heart of porkpie country. Bootsy can be relied upon to quote Wittgenstein, and can recite the yellow pages backwards, in latin.
Salami (taking a sabbatical in 2007) was born in 1973 in a field of Opium poppies under the midnight sun in Uzbekistan, son of the mythical Norse god of war Thor, and that woman who used to push trolleys in World of Leather. Salami was born with the gift of mime and an appreciation for theatre, and insisted on wearing a cravat from the age of 2. Fortunately, 10 years in borstal beat this out of him, and he now likes beer and pies and listens to Country and Western to relax after a hard days at work murdering hitch-hikers. Salami is well-known in the medical profession for his research into DIY brain surgery, successfully removing his own brain and making it into one of those nice pouffe thingies Grannies like to rest their feet on. He can be found on autopilot somewhere on the M1 enjoying Radio 2 and thinking of packing his job in again as he's been there 2 weeks and is bored already. He thinks that Sciroccos are for girls, once had a verucca, and takes his own bog-roll wherever he goes. Married to Mrs Salami (Leicestershire's own Steven Hawkins, but without the wheelchair and voicebox), he owns a bi-curious dog, and is addicted to buying cars. He likes to be called Boy Juice. Salami's racing pedigree includes lots of going very fast on a motorised bicycle round and round in a circle while dressed as a power-ranger, and a world-class 11 minutes 3 seconds round the Nurburgring in a MX5, making lots of smoke come off the rear tyres of the BMW while shouting "look at me, I'm Daisy Duke", and crashing a bit less than Duisberg (which isn't saying much). Salami would like to meet a nice young man, age and looks unimportant, no-smoker, for lengthy walks in the country, and a bit of wrestling. Salami is the Driver for Team Chernobyl Racing, owner of this years deathtrap BMW, and takes care of all the oily stuff that lurks under the bonnet.
- Some factual inaccuracies may exist within this text.** - Some factual inaccuracies may exist within this text too, but I doubt it.