“[Head of PR at Reanult UK] Tim Jackson, who’d become a really strong mentor and without whom we wouldn’t be sitting here now, said, ‘I’ve spoken to Frank [Williams], all good. Leave it to me.’ Next thing I get a letter from Frank saying it’s a no but that he’d like me to come and see him so that he could explain in person why it’s a no. Which I did. He explained that I’d never had a chance of getting the drive because they needed someone with a profile. I went away, called Tim, who said he’d see if he could get me a privateer drive.”
Plato is renowned for a gung-ho style on track, and this approach has served him well off it too. Plato wasn’t going to settle for a indie touring car drive.
“About two weeks later I woke up really raging and decided I’d go and bloody see Frank and have it out. Security let me in because they recognised me from before. ‘I’ve come to see Frank,’ I said to reception and they said fine, take a seat. Then scary Nicola, who was Frank’s PA and gatekeeper came down the stairs and said, ‘What do you think you’re doing? You can’t just do this.”
“And then she let out a gem, I think on purpose, by saying that, anyway, Frank wasn’t coming in until lunchtime. So I went and sat in the car park for three hours, eyes glued to the security gate, and smoked myself to oblivion. At last Frank’s car came in and I was out the car sprinting across the car park in my suit with a briefcase with nothing in it. I practically slammed into the side of his car. Frank was in the front seat and just stared up at me while I wondered what on earth I’d done. I pleaded with Frank to give me five minutes; he said he was too busy; I begged some more and he eventually agreed. I think actually that scary Nicola had tipped him off that I was waiting in the car park and what was likely to happen.