There are many idiotic sports in this world. Bungee nose picking, for instance. Or 'Olympic speed walking', which might as well be renamed 'Olympic duck impersonating'. But in the imbecilic stakes, they all fall into the shadow of one thing:

Motor racing.

Formula 1, Grand Prix, whatever you want to call it, it's immensely pointless and immensely dull. Do I have reasons for this outburst, you ask? I do. Four reasons, actually.

1. It's just a load of cars,
2. It's on TV all the time,
3. It's repetitive,
4. It's repetitive.

Perhaps I should expand on some of these, particularly the first one. I know saying 'it's just a load of cars' is like denouncing boat racing because 'it's just a load of boats' or football because 'it's just a load of men and a ball' or bungee nose picking because 'it's just a load of men, elastic and nosebleeds'. Allow me to elaborate.

What I'm saying is that there isn't enough of the human element in motor racing. At least Olympic waddling has that. A fantastically muscled man in tight-fitting running gear mincing down the road may look like a complete prat, but you can still cheer him on for his magnificent audacity. With motor racing, you can't do that. You're just seeing a load of cars. If they were all painted the same colour, you wouldn't be able to tell who you're cheering on. Oh sure, they're fast machines, extremely impressive vehicles of their kind, but everyone watching thinks 'Huh, I could do that'. People who run Olympic footraces are supremely athletic types with arms and legs like industrial pistons. You can get excited about them when you see them racing against each other. With motor racing, you're just watching a load of skinny blokes sitting in what amount to very fast armchairs.

What's more, all these cars go at pretty much exactly the same speed, so you have twenty-odd machines going around and around a track patiently waiting for the one in front to make a cock up. Maybe it would be interesting if drivers made a cock up more often, slamming into walls with really impressive explosions and bits of twisted metal flying everywhere. But no, they train the gits too well. They should have every car being driven by a chimpanzee. I'd watch that. Fuck, I'd sponsor it.

I don't see why they should put it on television. You switch on, marvel at the fast cars for a second, then a little box appears in the corner of the screen saying "67 laps to go!" so you wince and switch back over to the women's gymnastics. No-one can find a queue of cars going round a track for 70 laps interesting. No-one you'd want to be trapped in a conversation with at a cocktail party, anyway.

Being a commentator for motor racing must be fun.

Lap 1:

"And they're off! Smith pulls into the lead with Llewellyn and Peters in second and third. They've gone round Dead Man's Corner and Llewellyn has made a bold attempt to cut in front which seems to have backfired-"

Lap 27:

"And they've gone round Dead Man's corner again. Llewellyn almost got into the lead there, I notice. I was at the shops with Llewellyn's mum the other day. We went to Waterstones. Have you ever been to Waterstone's, Brian?"

Lap 63:

"Yep, looks like they all got around Dead Man's Corner without crashing. Again." Long pause. "In fact, I don't think anyone's ever crashed at Dead Man's Corner." Long pause. "Sort of makes you wonder why they call it Dead Man's Corner, really."

Lap 154:

"And here's to you, Mrs Robinson / Jesus loves you more than you will know / Whoa whoa whoa - come on, Brian, join in! - whoa whoa whoa / God bless you please, Mrs Robinson -"

Lap 3,000,000:

"My name is legion for we are many."

If there is someone out there who finds motor racing interesting, do get in touch with me so you can explain exactly why it's preferable to applying paint to your TV screen and watching it dry.

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