when it rains

What happened? In qualifying, Heikki kicked ass like ass was a leathershaped inflated oval ball. Add Kimi on third, and everything was set for the Finnish Championship Series come Sunday at the second to last-ever Silverstone.
But when it rains. When it rains, it pours, and princes turn to frogs.

Reluctantly, very reluctantly, I must hand it to that guy Anthony Hamilton – or whoever it is that drives the other McLaren. He was so good it was disgusting. When everyone else was having fun making grass or gravel angels, Hamilton kept clocking his card in timely fashion, going for – and easily earning – the golden plaque of Employee Of The Month.
Yet, Kimi drove him down, all the way down, and they pitted like lovers do, but then Ferrari forgot to change those round rubber things… which I can only compare to turning up at work and noticing you forgot to wear clothes. Oh, sure, they thought it would stop raining… stop raining, in England? Come on, Ferrari. Watch the race on TV next time – the airwaves were full with “rain in five minutes“. If not, then at least fire your weather man. Juha Föhr, is it?

This changes nothing, of course. Last Sunday, there was only one good driver on the course, and it was black Jesus. Everyone else was a bag of crap. But among all those bags of crap, Felipe Massa stunk the worst. I have never ever seen anyone spin so much in a race before! He was rotating more than accelerating, and that is some merry-go-around-round! Wooee! Tivoli! Or carnival, as they say in Brazil…

Speaking of Brazil, Barrichello put on a pretty nice show. To me, sofa-set and screaming out advice, it was agonizingly über-obvious extreme wets were the way to go. When you can go ten seconds – in a Honda, no less! – faster than anyone else, it takes only three laps to gain the time you lose pitting. But until one of the F1 teams hire me as the All-Seeing Oracle, all my advice will be lost in space, and the reign of the blind hen will continue.

But when the spray had… oh, England, remember… when the spray still hung heavily in the air, points were added – or substracted, depending on your mood – three drivers stood atop the tree. The Ham, Kimi, and Massa. They may not weigh much, but this is one branch that will break – and what a treat it will be to see two of them fall.

My prediction? Well, it’s not so much of a prediction, you know; Kimi will be the one to yell “TIMBER!

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