A small midfield team hoping to surprise the front of the grid at the beginning of this year because they weren’t doing very well last year has forgotten that happens every year.
“This car is a massive improvement on our old car,” said this oily little twattish PR mouthpiece, referring to last year’s midfield trundling traffic island on wheels.
“We’re very excited about the new season and believe we’ll surprise everyone with our pace right from the beginning,” he added reading from a piece of paper without understanding a word of what he was saying.
Formula 1, like many sports such as football, ice hockey and indoor league seduces viewers to the start of each season by appearing to suggest competition is closely fought with surprising results and unexpected victors the norm.
But then everything settles down to normal, the same cunts start winning over and over again crushing your hopes like a dense, gigantic cloud that invades your dreams drowning everything in a torrent of black piss and each new fan dies inside a tiny death of slowly throttled hope.
“This time: this time is going to be different,” the tosspiece continued.
“Not like last year where we blew the entire budget in the first month so only had enough left over to smooth the petrol cap protrusion once we’d bought all our food and fuel; inexorably falling to the back of the field as a result.”