It all looked really rather spiffing on Saturday. Webber claimed his 3rd pole-position in a row, and in the process continued Red Bull's impressive record of scoring every pole so far this season. Whilst the McLaren's were clearly fast, Ferrari were nowhere, with Alonso not even making the top ten in the marque's 800th GP. Martin Brundle describing him as a "miserable little so-and-so to interview" probably didn't help his mood much either.
With the race underway, Webber got a great start and Vettel managed to jump Hamilton, if only for a couple of laps. Whilst the Red Bull's and McLaren's then pulled away from the rest of the field (but rarely had a gap bigger than a few seconds between them) it started to look like a fairly unspectacular race. By lap 10, the top 9 drivers were exactly where they started on the grid. Just at the attention span started to dwindle, the ominous cloud in the background suddenly became ominous and fabulous at the same time as rain was forecast. Whilst it eventually barely managed anything, it ramped up the tension for a while at least. And then it suddenly got VERY interesting.
You've probably got your own opinion on this one, but the cold hard facts are that the two race leaders and championship leaders, Webber & Vettel, who both drive for the same team and seemed very loved-up at Monaco, suddenly filed for divorce, ripped up the pre-nup, nipped off for a quickie with the other one's best mate and generally committed the ultimate F1 sin. They collided. Vettel was out on the spot (and pretty clear about where the blame lay, judging by the "cuckoo" hand gesture) and Webber had to pit for a new nose-cone. He'd finally manage P3.
Not long after, Button decided that fuel-saving was really quite worthy but dull and overtook Craig David - Sorry, Lewis Hamilton(they look more alike every day) who wasn't expecting it at all. Rapid response meant he grabbed the position back, but come on... you were secretly hoping they'd stuff it too, weren't you? After that, what I'm guessing were words along the lines of "Don't even THINK about it" from the pit wall must have crackled loud and clear into both Jenson & Craig's (Sorry - Lewis's) helmets and they calmed down big time.
And so it was the Craig (dammit) - Lewis won, Jenson came second and Webber third. The podium ceremony was interesting. Hamilton seemed oddly subdued and seemed to need some reassurance from Button. I'm guessing it was "Nahhhhh - I was only messin' wiv ya!" or similar. Webber looked understandably forlorn.
Important note - if I ever see or hear Nicole Shirtzingler (or whatever she's called) doing that ridiculous jumping-up-and-down-whilst-putting-hands-dramatically-up-to-face crap again (or for that matter, "accidentally" walking past the BBC team and groping Coulthard so they'd interview her) I will... I.... I'll....be grumpy.
Reeeeeeee-wind, when the crowd says Bo Selecta.
(In the early 80's, I didn't like Duran Duran. It had quite a lot to do with Simon Le Bon being a dickhead, but more to do with the fact that blokes weren't supposed to like them (or Spandau Ballet - tea-towel wearing jessies!). After a bit, it seemed logical to accept the fact that the tunes were actually good, and now that I'm old, unfashionable and comfortable with owning a man-bag etc, I'm fine to say I like them. Hence, the arrival for my birthday recently of the 3CD "Singles 81-85", was a good moment. Currently enjoying the lunacy of "New Moon On Monday". See what I did there...? Crikey - that's the longest music sign-off yet.)
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