Monday, 21 February 2011



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Formula One fans all over tellyworld are disappointed but relieved but also disappointed tonight at the news that the planned race in Bah!-rain is to be cancelled.  The season will start, instead, in Melbourne, Australia, which doesn't want it. Load of Dingo's kidney's, cobber, said the drongo in charge of the city - is he a bint, like the Aussie premier?  How do you tell, out there, they're all shirtlifters, ain't they, ladyman capital of the Pacific, Australia - Nah, we don't wannit no more, it was alright when it started but it's bloody shit, now, costs the city a bleedin' fortune and no bastard turns up to watch the mad fuckers drivin' round and bloody round, a thousandth of a second here, a thousandth there, who gives a rat's arse about that. If you ask me, they're all on drugs, need to be off your bleedin' trolley and no mistake. We definitely won't be renewin' the contract when it's up, and the little dwarf'll have to find somewhere else to play racecars. That Mrs of his, though, looks like she'd bang like a shithouse door in a gale, no wonder she slung 'er 'ook, I mean, he looks like he's got one foot in  the grave. She could come an' blow my didgeridoo anytime, mate.

Speaking from Redditch, a swampy outpost of Birmingham, England,  Mr Mel  Butler,   a retired librarian, birdwatcher and F1 devotee said he didn't know what to do;  he had been looking forward to watching the Bah!-rain  race on his new forty-inch plasma screen telly  and now he might have to go shopping with his wife, Linda, also a retired librarian and birdwatcher, instead. Oh, don't get me wrong, I love Linda, dearly, it's just that I'd rather watch F1. It's not that I want Lewis Hamilton or one of the other chaps to crash and be all burnt to death or anything, or fly into the crowd and kill dozens of people who can afford to be there and not just watch it on the telly, like I have to,  but I do.  I have been putting a bit away ever since the Leeds Liquid Gold adverts, back in the 'eighties, but even so, jetsetting over to the Gulf in the hope of smelling a bit of burning blackman is a bit beyond my means.  Did I mention that there is a pair of greater speckled grebe scowlers nesting in my garden?


jgm2 said...

Top work Mr Ishmael. You may (or may not) be aware that back in the late 1980's/early 90's - (may even be ongoing) they made a street racetrack through the middle of Birmingham for (I think) formula 3.

So, being young and naive and back from my first ever big-paying job blowing Tanzania to pieces to see if there was any oil I thought I'd take my little brother to go and enjoy this fantastic local spectacular.

One word Mr Ishmael.


Fucking horrible. Like having your head in a fucking jet engine. Even when I'd chosen the safe (Moseley) side of the most likely place to see some jackass lose grip and scythe through several dozen people at that tricky turn around the roundabout at the central mosque. The bit where you'd think they'd be slowing down.

Oh aye. They went slower alright. But they changed gear so they were making the same amount of NOISE.


Fucking horrible.

Left after half an hour.


Just Loud.

Never again.

If you want the same experience then just stand at the end of Leuchars when there's a Tornado taking off.

And you never know - the engine might fail and the plane take out St Andrews.

Just as loud. But cheaper.

A sport that TV was invented for.

call me ishmael said...

I remember. Only seems like five minutes ago, mr jgm2. Who knows where the time goes?

jgm2 said...

Fucking hell. Look at that bint. Another fucking fur coat.

Silly cunt that I am I made the mistake of 'Hmmm - another day on the slopes risking busting my 40+ year-old legs skiing or a day in Turin. Aye, let's have a look at that fucking shroud they've got - come on kids - it'll be educational'

Fuck it. Turin it is.

We could have stayed another week for the price of fucking fur coat the missus bought. Mission creep the yanks call it. She went in for a handbag. Another village full of mink wiped out.

And the shroud?

In a big fucking marble box about five yards long with a photocopy on top.

You can light a candle though. Christ. Yes. Let's light a candle. My mum used to love lighting candles - lets do that.

Except it's not even a genuine fucking wax candle. No matches. No flickering flames. Just a lightbulb that lights up when you stick a coin in.

Holy Christ.

Next time I'll bust me fucking leg.

It'll be cheaper.

a young anglo-irish catholic said...

Fuck me, you have right, and no mistake.

This is little part of my professional world, but I can't stand it. The whole fucking circus, Bernie and Max's private world, the only press allowed in are those that play the game, bending over for the F1 bosses.

Round and round the same corners, year after year, a complete waste of time and titanium.

Really, it's just Hitler's late 1930's racing car programme carried forward.

And as for Moseley, I know for a fact he pulled a seriously unethical stunt, via the FIA, when a car manufacturer wasn't playing ball with its F1 team...

They should all be shot. Or strung up.

PT Barnum said...

I have long been baffled how one man can own an entire sport. Even Murdoch has never managed that.

I gather there have been, from time to time, rumours of a split with some "teams" taking their ball home, but all for naught, so Wee Bernie must know where an awful lot of bodies are buried.

mongoose said...

F1 is tedious because we are no longer prepared to watch drivers burning to death on the telly. Therefore we cannot have overtaking. This is because overtaking - aka "racing" - is the dangerous bit. And by a thousand cuts we arrive at "race strategy", and pit-stops and other buggering about which is, it is conteded, where the excitement comes in. Toothless and witless it has become. Though it has to be admitted that the cars are amazing feats of engineering.

reginald said...

Yes F1 is a bit like politics, and religion. A gigantic chimera. Since the little rag and bone man userped control it has steadily become more and more like a Brian Rix Whitehall Farce.

nobber said...


" If you want the same experience then just stand at the end of Leuchars when there's a Tornado taking off."

It will probably be quite quiet as they don't have any Tornados at Leuchars ;)

mrs narcolept said...

Has anyone ever seen the Ecclescakes and the Mr and Mrs Tiny Speaker in the same room?

Woman on a Raft said...


Mebbe, mebbe not. This was the time when Ali developed the "A cheque has been sent" ploy, which was demonstrably true but not at all the same thing as "a cheque has been cashed".

The misdirection was subsequently used by little Hazel Blears, who shamelessly held up her "Look, I'm paying you back" cheque like they do for publicity shots for charities.

Dunno whether it bounced. The numpties of Salford voted her in again, so I only have limited sympathy for them. Some people really do deserve all they get.