1992 (25)


It's all very well being Belgian's fastest driver but not if the only means of demonstrating it is via an exploding clown car that gets lapped by the circus elephant before it completes its spontaneous combustion party piece. Still, it says a lot about Mclaren's new clusterfuck status that the focus of all the jokes have not been at the expense of a ginger Belgian but instead the smoking tangerine shitbox he's forced to pedal. How the 25 year old must dream of hearing the one about Jesus not being a Walloon because they couldn't find 3 Wise Men in the entire country? Instead he got recycled Skoda gags between Alonso's latest incandescent Honda meltdown just audible above his own sobbing. 3 years of the sinking sun behind his soldier blades now jettisoned in favour of France's finest - have you ever seen Peugeot's best, mind? - and Vandoorne's hopes Mclaren is reborn now lie across an optimistic unknown landscape of reinvigorated Renault engineering, Mclaren design expertise, an Adrian Newey 6 month headache and the flipside paranoia of Honda's lightbulb moment where they finally figure where the exhaust pipe goes. Sleep tight, Stoffel.

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