Lord Blakkhaart is mad.

An eccentric recluse, exact details are very hard to find and no clear pictures of him are known to exist, other than in police and MI6 files. The one occasion that I attempted to photograph him resulted in several hours of painful surgery to extract the camera.

The following info was cobbled together from anecdotal evidence and the drunken rantings of the many broken hearts he has left in his wake across most of Europe. The little that I can personally remember from our many meetings is blurred by the Romanian Vodka that he insists we imbibe. If you know any better then please let us and the appropriate authorities know.

Twisted and crushed in the callous world of international mega-corps, the tortured soul of Lord B thrusts him crashing from one maddening exploit to another.
He has been, and indeed is, many things; as an artist his sculptures have expressed his inner torment and had some critical acclaim, one of them even sold on ebay.
As a racing driver he has crashed in both off road and circuit based events, he now campaigns a classic Jaguar and has been seen waving a single digit to the cameras whilst wrestling a huge sideways moment at Croft racing circuit.
As an inventor he has created a new suspension system (the Blakkhaart strut), a method of finding things that have been ‘put somewhere safe’ and also his legendary squid stir fry (which is dark grey).
He is also a renown (in fairly small circles) philosopher and has written diverse papers on subject from ‘robots – the next step in human evolution’ to ‘parking spaces vs fleet size’.

He has had many attempts at a career including being a college professor, a company director (most of the companies are now either dissolved or bankrupt), a radio DJ, car designer (the Blakkhaart Dominator 4x4 still strike fear into the hearts of all who see it) and is now gaining some notoriety as a motoring critic and social commentator.

He stoic resistance to the mindless stupidity of global corporations and faceless government departments has earned him a reputation as a free thinker, but unfortunately and perhaps predictable, distanced him from any real commercial success. Within the car industry he has insulted chief engineers of most prestige brands to their face.

History.

Lord B was born in undisclosed circumstances some time in the psychedelic late 60’s in a barn in Devon.
His upbringing on the family estate was fraught with drama, his creative ability far out paced his teachers and frustration set in at an early age. He funnelled his energy into his passion for motor vehicles and created his first road car project, a Chevette with a 9 litre Jaguar truck V8, whilst bunking off school.

He gained an engineering diploma followed by a degree, which would have gained him a golden first (his final year project was a self tuning engine which nearly burnt down the senate house) but for the onset of alcohol fuelled party excesses and the untimely passing of his long suffering father.
This tragic event lead to a sad chain of events culminating with the loss of the family estate to a kniving property tycoon from Moldavia.
His plunge into depravity was halted by a leather clad Eskimo biker chick who later married him in a Transylvanian castle. They moved to a converted cave complex in the Alps with stunning views of the ‘bottom’ sea, but more importantly adequate parking.

It was here that he became oddly obsessed with Rover SD1’s, creating a short wheelbase version and the worlds most unpleasant looking estate (which had to be destroyed for reasons of taste). He came back to blighty to pass his ARDS course and race his SD1 touring car.
He then became intrigued by the AWDC Heavy Mob who regularly raced tanks and all wheel drive trucks in various quarries, many of which had been venues for episodes of Doctor Who.
This lead to the purchase of an Alvis Stalwart 6x6 with a Rolls Royce straight 8 which he learned to ‘bunny hop’. He remains one of the few people to have done a pub crawl with a 9 tonne amphibious truck in the heart of historic Bishops Stortford.

When a friends Skoda expired, Lord B borrowed an ex-Israeli Super Sherman and the resultant destruction proved a great stress reliever and I had the great privilege of videoing the proceedings, a copy of which can be downloaded here.

His passion for motors expanded to the smaller scale when he purchased a Hesketh motorcycle which he still owns to this day despite several significant accidents, one of which causes him to limp on both legs.

All this obsession destroyed his faltering marriage and he moved to a workshop in the Midlands to become an eccentric recluse and to devote his time to philosophical writing, art and building a Dakar rally car.
Regrettably the rally ended after the third day when a large desert tree swerved in front of him resulting in a 600 foot barrel role. The navigators last words were ‘steady on old chap’.
Un daunted by this set back, he recruited a new navigator and took part in a Land Rover based expedition through the Himalayas. This nearly ended in disaster when his Discovery started sliding down a 900 foot glacier, it was only saved by the excellent efforts of his new navigator with the wise words; dont fall off the mountain.
On returning once more to dear old blighty, Lord B was tragically bankrupt, so immediately started racing a classic Jaguar.

He is now living in a small chalet bungalow with a white witch, who has created their first child from scrap metal and potatoe peelings. He uses a 1925 Delage, with a Schnider Trophyt Rolls Royce V12 of some 36 litres, as daily transport.

He sells art to pay for petrol.

RH 2005