Red Bull's Max Verstappen pulls off a string of victories. Lewis Hamilton of Mercedes struggles to keep pace. Later, an accident leads to controversy. We will see more Red Bull vs Mercedes, with a bit of Ferrari thrown in. Again Wolff and Horner engage in what appear to be pretty staged chats with their loved ones over the first meal of the day about the intensity of the championship fight but also pumpernickel. Monaco plays out brilliantly for Red Bull and miserably for Mercedes, but several laps of Horner’s garden still look more exciting than that ’21 GP round the principality. Things all come to a head at the British GP, and we will all know how that ends. Cue more swearing and breakfast war-planning.
The Haas team looks to reverse its recent fortunes with a new sponsor and two rookie drivers: Nikita Mazepin and Mick Schumacher. Reliable Netflix gang-show entertainers, Guenther Steiner and his motley Haas crew are it again. This time they invited a Russian oligarch to sponsor them and his spoilt son to drive, what could possibly go wrong? It soon turns out Nikita Mazepin can’t make head nor rear diffuser of the VF-21 car, being easily trounced by team-mate Mick Schumacher: 'I don’t know how he drives that thing' says poor Niki. Soon, some rather rude phrases are being exchanged between the team and driver, with the elder Mazepin threatening to withdraw his sponsorship early on in the season. However, what can only be described as a genius tyre call at his home grand prix in Sochi means young Maz rescues the situation and blazes a trail to finish.
Ricciardo is still trying to get to grips with that pesky papaya number, whilst things get tetchier and tetchier between the Macca team-mate as races go by. 'We’re very different,' says Norris darkly. Luckily there's a sprint race for Ricciardo to get his Mansell-esque chops into, then it all falls into place. Bottas gets a grid penalty, Verstappen and Hamilton waltz off the track together and Norris promises not to overtake the old man in front a la Damon Hill / Ralf Schumacher at Spa ’98. The Honey Badger is back!
This episode is all about Williams Racing. After over forty years in F1, the family from which the team is named has sold up, and the not-ominous-sounding-at-all Dorilton Capital has moved in and is ringing the changes. They have got a motor sport man through and through to run it though: former Volkswagen WRC principal Jost Capito. The new boss soon starts scything through the team with ruthless German efficiency. George Russell soon gets in the mood also, like a prefect joining in with the teacher grassing someone up, saying some team members need to be given the shove. The team does come through to score a valiant eighth and ninth in Budapest. The new regime is rocking and rolling.
They have the raw talent, but can they handle the pressure? Now Yuki Tsunoda and Esteban Ocon must sink or swim in the rough waters of Formula 1. Yuki Tsunoda had to move from Tokyo to Milton Keynes and F1 cars are proving a bit more difficult to wield than the F2 machine in which he won races. Esteban Ocon is part of the all-French attack (from Enstone) in the shape of Alpine, soaking up the pressure to win the Hungarian GP.
(Click CC for subtitles) Rumors fly about whether an up-and-coming driver will join Hamilton on team Mercedes, potentially leaving Valtteri Bottas without a seat. Seemingly permanently stuck in the crisis of a one-year contract running out, this time Bottas has Mercedes golden boy George Russell breathing down his neck. The young Brit desperately wants Bottas’ seat, and things come to a head when the two collide at Imola. Scandalous. Bottas can’t resist the inevitable though, and after Russell puts the F1 on the front row at Spa, whilst the Finn can only manage eighth, it looks to be all over. Thus follows a scene of Russell being told he has the Mercedes seat by Wolff in a scene which looks so staged it would make even cringe.
Monaco plays out brilliantly for Red Bull and miserably for Mercedes, but several laps of Horner’s garden still look more exciting than that ’21 GP round the principality. Things all come to a head at the British GP, and we will all know how that ends. Cue more swearing and breakfast war-planning.