Well put, Mark. Couldn’t’ve said it better myself.
Meanwhile, don’t take this too literally please, tomorrow during the start.
First there was the hooning problem. The FIA can now revoke F1 licences for anyone who won’t behave on the roads, and Lewis can’t help himself behind the wheel of a fast car. So I bought him a little Myers three wheeler with 27bhp and only one rear wheel. Can’t go wrong with that.
But now poor old Lewis has discovered Twitter. And guess what? Can’t help himself again.
“How could I know that so many people would read my tweets?” he says. “I thought I was only speaking to my fans!”
Lewis, if you put something on the Twitter the whole world can see it, not only your fans. Even I know that, and I’m from before the War.
“But that’s impossible! This means I can’t type anything on my phone without half the world getting their balls in a knot? That’s unfair! If I have a smartphone, I should be able to use it to the limit, shouldn’t I? It’s just like with cars!”
Caption suggestions are all over the Twitterverse, ranging from “Check this out, not bad for a second drviver, eh?” to “This is what Red Bull’s tried to do to me all season.” Or “How about this for a tie-breaker proposal?”
Don’t be fooled. people. Whatever he may be, Mark Webber is not a wimp.
He kept calling me late at night, saying he couldn’t sleep, getting increasingly worried about the FIA taking away his Superlicence.
We announced this a couple of months ago: in future the FIA can and will punish its licence holders for road traffic offences. If you’re really bad they’ll even take your licences away. And yes, Lewis, that includes your F1 Superlicence.
It’s a leftover from Max Mosley’s days. Max was always big on two things: Road Safety – his big legacy – and Punishment. The new system sits on the crossroads of both. It does fit very well with FIA’s new mission in life, which goes way beyond motor racing alone. As a driver you’re now not only supposed to behave on the circuit, but in ordinary traffic as well. Unless you’re Jenson Button’s bodyguard, of course. Jean Todt likes the idea as well so he’s pushed it through the General Assembly. It’s official now.Which doesn’t help Lewis’ mood. Since Melbourne he thinks everybody’s out to get him. Thing is, people keep giving him these hideously fast cars to drive around in. So he thinks he has to prove he can drive them. It doesn’t even occur to him to lift the accelerator pedal a little. ‘Braking late is in my blood,’ he keeps saying.
I even suggested him Continue reading
The lad arrived from Australia in a totally different mood from the others. Aren’t you a bit worried about losing your grip on the title? I asked him.
“Not at all. I’m totally, totally relaxed,” he says. “Couldn’t be more relaxed, frankly. Motivated, but relaxed.”
So you don’t care whether you win the title or not?
“Of course I care,” he says. “It’s fucking obvious. But I’m relaxed about it. Being relaxed is the best way to win.”
How about Vettel, then? He says he’s still racing you. Mateschitz backs him all the way. Meanwhile, Dr Strangelove and your boss are scratching their heads how to deal with the team orders or no team orders mess. Are you a first driver?
“I’m a relaxed driver. That’s what it’s all about, Mr E.”
Hamilton is running around totally fired up, says he’s gunning for the title with all his might.He has a responsibility to McLaren, England, and his fans. In that order, I believe. Aren’t you feeling his pressure?
“Lewis should be more relaxed. He’ll die young if he goes on like that. I’ll tell ya, stress is bad for you, mate.”
My man. This is what true F1 Champions should be made of. Conspiracy swirls around him, competitors are baying for his blood, team bosses breathing down his neck. The press is laying siege on an ongoing basis. But the man’s relaxed.
Hope he’s not on drugs.
Hugh Laurie thinks he’s parodying a Frenchman here, but anyone who’s seen Kimi Raikkonen in a post-race conference will think Finnish. “We had a goowd race. We were not so happy with the car but eventually we won so I guess in the end we had a goowd race. And to have a goowd race is goowd because we won the race. Mubadala mubadala mubadala”
What we see on podium these days are good pupils who paid attention in media training class. I’m certain that’s one thing Kimi couldn’t care less about.
I feel sorry for Sebastian about his eleventh hour engine failure, but I’m happy to see a great tradition emerging. Your car’s on fire, you’re the one to douse the flames. F1’s equivalent of the Captain only leaving his ship when nothing can be done any more. Stuff of legends.
I feel personally responsible for this. For years I’ve shown the way by keeping a fireman’s helmet in my office, and extinguishing a proverbial fire or two. Mostly after having started them myself, but that’s a minor detail.
Keep going, lads. Much praise for our courageous drivers, and for the pit wall crews who hand them their blowers.
Try to imagine this. A room full of Koreans, a karaoke machine, ready to go. All eyes are on the Big Celebrity, the F1 Championship Leader. And then it starts to sing.
On the other hand, Koreans are terribly polite. And they know how to keep their faces straight. Even so, it will be the ultimate test.
Best not to let it come that far.
… in fact, it’s getting worse. Apparently someone at Canberra Milk, or worse, their ad agency, has figured out Mark couldn’t hit a note if it was sitting on the apex of an F1 circuit’s corner. So their advertising serfs came up with this version.
Let me tell you, Canberra Milk Morons: Mark’s ‘singing’ was the only entertaining thing in the whole bleedin’ commercial. So get it into your Ozzie dairy farmers’ heads: this ain’t funny. Not even close.
Mark, I know there’s probably a contract sitting out there that you signed when you weren’t the prime Championship contender you are today. But if there’s even a shadow of an escape clause in there, grab it. Get the lawyers on it. The last thing you want is to become the World Champion Canberra Milk Boy.
Memo to all the other lads: stay away from dairy and other loser stuff. Leave that to Danica Patrick and all the other household appliances. You’re supposed to be real men, the lot of you. Stick to promoting manly goods like spark plugs.
[Thanks, dear reader Lyn, for sending me the commercial.]