I wish Donington well, but it’s going to be a hell of a struggle to get it into shape in two years, and if the Grand Prix does disappear off to foreign shores it will be a sad day for one of the few international sporting events in the UK

After the frenzy of June and July with events happening every weekend, August is a little light
on motoring entertainment. Even the expected minicabbing opportunities in Ibiza were lost when we found an unsuspecting victim to ferry a group of teenage boys out clubbing every night, check that all the fake IDs had got them into the clubs, and then bring the same number back at five in the morning. I know the numbers were right, but I’m still not sure if they are the same kids.

Down in the cellars we’re once again attempting to find all the bits to get three cars running for the Goodwood Revival. This year also requires the presence of my Model T Ford, which lurks in the workshop like a member of the Addams family; it has a patina created by 90-odd years of continual violence being wreaked upon it, with rudimentary attempts at panel bashing as the past solution to every new dent.
Prior to my ownership the Model T was in the hands of a Mr Coco the Clown, c/o Bertram Mills circus. Its previous form included an early career in Hollywood, where it co-starred in a number of silent films along with Laurel and Hardy and Mack Sennett’s Keystone Cops. In the late ’40s it emigrated to Germany with a group of clowns, called the Cavallinis, who then brought it to the UK.

Scene 1. The Dover Docks.
Enter clown car from ferry, stage left.
‘Anything to declare sir? Mind if I just have a look in the back of your car?’
Cue enormous explosion, suspect’s trousers fall down and second clown plays Oh my Papa on trumpet; then cut to clown complaining to his Ford service manager that the doors still aren’t falling off properly…
I think you’ve got the picture; it’s not quite the same as the GTO Rally.

In fact Pierre Picton, who joined the Bertram Mills circus as a clown in 1956, was the keeper. He bought the car from the Cavallinis after the Budapest uprising in 1956. If you went to Bertram Mills’ Circus in the ’50s you probably saw this car perform, and Pierre still has a number of injuries caused by it. The trouble is that it’s all very well falling out of the car – the Ford is programmed to circle around and allow the driver to climb back in – but if the driver falls badly and is unable to get out of the way, it will simply run him over. I still yearn to rent it out one day for a celebrity arrival at the Oscars.

It could be described as 3.3 litres of terror, with an ejector seat, exploding doors, squirting radiator, remote self-starting and driving, rocket-powered pigeons, klaxons, tip-out rear seat, etc etc. I think the trade would rightly call it ‘fully loaded’.

On a slightly more dignified level, next month sees the launch of a TAG Heuer motor sport photo exhibition at the Mall Galleries, celebrating 40 years of the Formula One Championship. I’ve been fortunate to have a preview and it’s a fascinating insight into both the changes and the constants of motor racing. What I noticed is the focus that is evident on the faces of all the drivers. Lewis might have a supporting cast of thousands compared with the situation in Stirling’s day, but what you read in the faces is that when the flag drops you’re on your own.

And then there were the Beijing Olympics. I hate to sound less than enthusiastic, but I’m still not convinced that taking on 2012 in London was a good idea. Better, I think, to have used the money to give more support to the sports themselves than for a load of building work. And a fraction of that money would have given us all the redevelopment required to satisfy Bernie at Silverstone.

I wish Donington well, but it’s going to be a hell of a struggle to get it into shape in two years, and if the Grand Prix does disappear off to foreign shores it will be a sad day for one of the few international sporting events in which the UK really is a world leader. It would be a shame to find Lewis Hamilton taking up synchronised swimming…