I shouldn’t’ve made that joke about the Maldives. All of a sudden every politician and their brother are all over me because their bloody backwater is supposed to be an ideal venue for the next Grand Prix.
Here’s just another day in the Singapore paddock: I’ve got a Chicago politician in tow, some Russian Deputy Prime Minister whose name is Dimitri Cossack (I’m not making this up), and a Prime Minister of Mauritius whose name I won’t even begin to pronounce. All three are eager to impress me with their countries’ prowess, and the countless millions of locals that are supposedly pining to have two dozen racing machines screaming through their respective neighbourhoods. On top of that, the Chicago pol has a really crappy camera.
But who knows what the future holds? Hard to tell if, silly as it may seem now, Continue reading