Friday, July 16, 2004

Grand Pricks

How boring has Grand Prix got nowadays? I happened to catch a bit of it on TV last Sunday when bored out of my brains. It nearly pushed me over the edge. Who took all the fun away? The only thing thats worth watching now is the first corner to see if anybody totals themselves.

You may as well switch the TV on for the first corner then back on again at the end to see if anybody has managed to beat Schumacher. The bits in between just arent worth the time, unless you need help falling to sleep. I reckon Schumacher pretends to go round then just hangs back and waits near the finish line until the race finishes, then nips out and wins just as the others come round the last corner. Its so predictable that even the cameramen now focus on whats happening elsewhere.

When did overtaking get banned?, the only way you seem to be able to win now is if you do quicker pit stops, thats not car racing - thats car stopping. More people setting fire to themselves - thats what the place needs, or more people getting run over. That would get it interesting again. Or letting sheep roam onto the track. Grand Prix with a twist - now thats the future.

And as for going to watch a grand prix, how bored with life do you actually need to be to go and watch one? Zzzzzzzooooom, there goes one. Zzzoooooooom, there goes another. That'll be Four Million Pounds please.

Even the blokes who present and commentate are the most boring people you'll ever wish to meet, the kind of blokes i always end up getting lumbered with on a train or on a training course with. 'And what do you drive? I've got a Ner, ner, ner ner ner with a lower dooda and a fiddly dee with a...GET LOST!!!'. The archetypal car nerds. No wonder theyre commentating on Grand Prix, theyve bored their only friends to death.

Then imagine the people that think its fun to go on the non-grand prix days to watch practice:

'What do you fancy doing today dear?'
'I dont know about you but I really fancy queuing for a few hours on an 'A' road in Northamptonshire before watching a bunch of blokes practice driving cars'

You might as well stand on a bridge over the motorway or in Tesco car park. Stay at home and save yourself the money and ten hours stuck in a car park.

Yet, bearing all this in mind, loads of middle aged men with driving gloves, ferrari caps, worryingly tidy cars and the entire Dire Straits back catalogue make the pilgramage each year, before speeding back home pretending they're driving racing cars. These are the kind of men with a tidy boot, a luminous triangle in case of breakdown and a leather bound car atlas.

Then they proceed to bore the skin off their work colleagues for the next few days with their tales. And we wonder why us men get a bad name.