Why F1 drives me mad

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FORMULA One drivers are up in arms because they may have to take a pay cut.

With a £35 million basic annual salary Kimi Raikkonen is the highest paid.

The credit crunch will hit him hard, he will have to downgrade from a solid gold helicopter to just silver.

Formula One is on the slide, and no amount of desperate rule changes such as Bernie Ecclestone’s idea for giving the winners gold medals can save it.

Bernie, the only way to save F1 is to make it exciting.

With little over-taking this dull as dishwater sport is no more than a glorified fuel stop at a petrol station.

The only time there is a change in the race order is when they stop for fuel.

Why not spice it up – and give each driver a shopping list.

Next time they stop for fuel get them to wait in the queue at the garage to get juice, crisps and furry dice.

Formula One world champion Lewis Hamilton was even set to race triple Olympic champion Chris Hoy at Wembley.

Hamilton, behind the wheel of a Mercedes-Benz road car, was due to face-off against Hoy, who was on a bike.

Unfortunately, the race was postponed due to a slippery track.

But Hoy won the race for the BBC Sports Personality of the Year.

Hamilton was heartbroken, and even more distraught when his flash car broke down.

The world champ turned to Hoy and said: “Can you give me a lift?”

“Sure, you look great, the world’s your oyster, go for it.”

Why stop at man v machine races, I want to see Formula One spiced up by putting a roundabout in the middle of the track.

If they can navigate the Haudagain, then they really are worth £35m.

They can also stick a lollipop man at the end of a chicane, and introduce a turbo boost like the drag racers.

Anything to spice it up.

Formula One has grown so stale TV companies are considering scrapping coverage in favour of the World Origami Championships.

It’s on paper view.

The legendary Jessie Owens regularly raced horses to make a living after his four Olympic gold medals.

His trick was to select a highly-strung thoroughbred that would be frightened by the starter’s shotgun and give them a bad jump.

Sport and animals should never be mixed as I found out on a recent trip to the Aberdeenshire countryside with my girlfriend.

We went hunting, fishing and shooting with a laird, but pretty soon she got bored.

“Why don’t you grab a gun, take the dogs and go shooting,” I said.

After a few hours she returned.

“Did you enjoy that?”

“It was great,” said Susan, “But do you have any more dogs?”