Mark Webber, snookered

Well put, Mark. Couldn’t’ve said it better myself.

Meanwhile, don’t take this too literally please, tomorrow during the start.

Button gone missing

… And then there were four. OK I promise, this’ll be the last of my Button jokes. I’ll leave him alone with his misery now.

Cheer up, Jenson. Next year’s another year. You’re still young. And try to steer clear of Lewis for a while.

Button seen leaving Interlagos circuit

He asked what would be the safest way. Told me he had enough aggravation for one weekend and didn’t feel like running any more risks of getting either mugged or interviewed.

And since I needed the helicopter myself, what else could I advise him?.

I’m sorry, Jenson. I really am.

Jenson Button shaken, but not stirred

Really, sometimes I can’t help myself. And it often happens when some journo asks me a stupid question. (I know, I know, that sounds redundant, doesn’t it?)

So here’s this Reuters bloke who wants to know what I think of Jenson Button being mugged outside Interlagos. What do I think? I mean, the story’s simple, isn’t it?

Jenson’s being driven around with his entourage in armoured Merc. Merc gets stuck in traffic. Armed hoodlums pour out of nearby apartment block. Driver of said Merc has had some training in evasive driving. Driver spots hoodlums and has time of his life. Finally some real life evasive driving! Driver evasive drives Jenson and entourage to hotel. Rams several cars in the process. After all, it was only one afternoon of evasive driving school. Hoodlums decide this is too difficult and don’t pursue. Owners of damaged cars do pursue. Of course they do. They need Jenson’s details for the insurance claims. The end.

All in all this is about as exciting as watching the Bahrain Grand Prix. But the Reuters hack sees world headlines. Maybe even

Let this be an example

Here’s how Graham Hill made an extra quid or two, back in 1969. Spark plugs. Beats dairy by a mile. According to the text, Jackie Stewart’s in the game too. Take note, people.

These were real men. Note the absence of milk moustaches.

[Thanks, loyal reader David, for bringing the ad to my attention.]

Milking F1 drivers for what it’s worth

First we get to hear that Mark Webber is actually a Canberra Milk Kid. I’m not sure if this was the beginning of Mark’s advertising career, but I’ll bet it was the end of his singing career.

And now we get to see Jenson on the side of London buses, with a milk moustache and a smirk on his face. “Milk’s on the button.” Yes, we get it, thank you.

What’s next? ‘Lewis knows what stew is?’ Please people, they’re race drivers, not housewives. Next time I want to see power tools. And no gratuitous puns, please. Can we at least agree on that?

Jenson has finally come out of the closet

It was about time. You may have noticed that you rarely see anyone slipstream behind Jenson in training laps. In the paddock we call him the White Hurricane, and if you’re right behind him on the track you can’t see a thing. We used to joke that of all the drivers Jenson had the least to fear about the obligatory weighing after the race, with all the stuff he would’ve shed during the previous two hours.

So it’s a brilliant move of McLaren to nudge him towards a brand ambassadorship for Head&Shoulders of all brands.

Money quote: “Like the millions of British men who use it every day, it’s one of my grooming essentials. Whether I’m track side or in a tux, Head&Shoulders is an easy way to keep my hair flake-free, helping me to look and feel good every day.”

Well written by Procter&Gamble’s PR flacks, and it couldn’t be more true. I hope they don’t only pay him well but also keep him amply supplied with product.

The Sun kicks Butt

Or is it Butt kicks McLaren? Perhaps The Sun should follow the Guardian’s example and stick to writing about people having lunch.

Morons.

Turns out US F1 wasn’t completely virtual

The only two physical things they owned were a couple of fully equipped eighteen wheelers. Coming to think of it, I should’ve known because I now remember Ross Brawn bragging about getting rid of these things when Mercedes bought his team and typically insisted on using their own equipment.

“At first I thought ‘Bloody Krauts’, this is going to cost me a bundle,” Ross said, “until I ran into Peter Windsor. Silly bugger had just gotten his first investment money and thought boatloads more were on the way. I told him, you’ll have to buy now or else they’ll be gone. As if. These things are harder to get rid of than a wank stain on the wall. ‘Oh right,’ he said, ‘I’ll have ’em then.’ Thought he made the deal of the century. Thank God for newbies!”

So now they’ve ended up on eBay. Sold off by hungry creditors. Apparently poor old Peter never even got around to repainting them. One of them’s got Jenson’s number still on it.

Cruel are the ways of the world. Especially the racing world.

Who would you put your money on?

One team, two drivers. The race is over, two weeks until the next race. They’re both in the running for the Championship, but there’s a lot of work that still needs to be done.

"Jenson, are you still on the simulator?"

One blows off his girlfriend and opts for the simulator instead. (No, you dirty mind, the racing simulator.) He’s headed straight for the Woking HQ.

"Best jet lag medicine ever. Bar none."

The other makes a beeline for his girlfriend, with the unique excuse that she’s the greatest medicine against jet lag. I thought I heard them all until I heard this one.

Now the big question is: which of these two lads is the one that’s not rushing to appoint a manager?