Formula 1 is full of stories that even the most cheesy and sappy Hollywood writers would never be able come up with. Brocedes? Lestappen? Carlando?
Oh hi, I’m just a rich son of a famous Formula 1 champion, I want to be your friend, poor English boy, I don’t care about your background. Wanna stay at my place? Wanna grow up together? Wanna end up in the same team? Be best friends forever? Fall in love with each other? Wanna crash our cars together and let the rivalry destroy our bond? Wanna publicly say we are not friends any more? Wanna unfollow me everywhere on social media and avoid me forever? Even when after a few years I keep saying over and over and over again how amazing and brilliant you are? Appreciate you on live national television? HUH?! Did you hear that we were everything but lovers? Hah, little do they know. Wanna say that Valtteri is the best teammate you have ever had and cause me to cry in Italy to a bunch of strangers? LEWIS ANSWER ME. TEXT. ME. BACK. WE STILL LIVE IN MONACO AND I SEE YOU BUYING MUFFINS. LEWIS. LEWIS. LEWIS.
and:
Oh yes I’m just a very grumpy and extremely talented boy who will not allow some Monegasque pretty bitch drive faster than me. I called him a pretty bitch because English is not my first language and I’m only 12 and of course I wanted to say he is pretty much a bitch. He is totally not pretty. I would never call him that. Pfff. He is also pretty and annoying. Damn it I wanted to say pretty annoying. Anyway. Thankfully he is too stupid to end up in F1 with me. Wait what? He’s here? WHAT. I AM CALM. I TOTALLY AND COMPLETELY AM- what do you mean he’s the one who just crashed into my car. Again. What- God. And he is so cute and flustered when he gets asked about me and I really want to talk with him more than I probably should so hold on a second, hold on a moment, let me, a winner of the 5th grade school geography map contest, ask this dummy about the difference between these two flags. He was wrong with the answer. I don’t care. He looked nice while being wrong. I just like the way he moves his lips. And his bright eyes are okay I guess. He smiles when someone mentiones me and then he crashes into me again. It does things to me. It’s hard and IT’S HARD you know. It makes me angry. You know what? Fuck him. Well, I might as well do that if he doesn’t stop being so pretty and chaotic. I MEAN PRETTY CHAOTIC. SHUT UP. SHUT UUUUP. SHUT UPPPPPP I FEEL NOTHING.
followed by:
Oh well, I’m a Spanish guy with everything neatly organised and I am focused on being taken seriously and I don’t really represent this stereotypical Spanish loud vibes, I’m a calm guy who- wait a minute isn’t that some cute gremlin? He is younger than me and uses words like “noob” and doesn’t explain the meaning to me and just chuckles and he plays video games which are not FIFA and I don’t know how to win at such things but catch me at 1 am trying to learn how to play that stupid COD or whatever that’s called, and since when I want to impress some young twinks? Well, one twink, to be honest. Oh no, he makes me laugh in public like a maniac and I can’t control myself he always laughs at my crappy jokes and is that a blush on his cheeks? Am I blushing too? He makes me feel so comfortable in my own skin? He doesn’t judge me but we have that cute banter going on? He likes when I teach him things? Golf! Chess! Kissing- I MEAN. He says he doesn’t like being touched but here we are, he’s leaning against my shoulder and allows me to touch his tigh and GOD look at his face all glowing everytime we talk, I might end up marrying him, well watch me proposing right now.
