Stanley Unwind
A Shortly Diversion On the Historicals of Motoringsport.

Unwind

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In the beginning of the beginning there was a word: “Gentle mental startle your engines.  But before that beginning there was another.

Once a polly ti-to there was a caveman, and at the same timeframe there was another all-gruff and forehead Neandertode man ….or woman, who together rolled down a hill a great stone to see which one would squashit a tusky hair mammoth first. And so was born wheeley sport, the motherlode of motoringsport.

However without an infernal congestion motor only downhill slopey-plunge racing could be an occurent. And so trickly-how, toc fallolop down the hill they came, and with bone, hammer, stone, hair and electric (albeit 44 years and 2 million later) Homo Erectile functioned an motor.

Now this motor was an engine made of wood, later coal and superheated heat forcing the reciprocating pistol to thrusty-pump in an epicyclic rotatimost. Thus forwardly on flatland mankind steamed, only to be overtaken by equine, bovine even gastropode. Oh folly.

And then suddenly in 1899 and then again in the afternoon the Count Gaston de Chasseloup-Laubat turned up on a starting line – and this was the very first starting line ever to start from the starting line. Diving a great bullet-pointy cylindrytube with not three, but two motors and these were made out of electric. And so it was that the fastest electrical motoring cart in the world was the fastest motoring cart in the world

But when telling historyclodes from the futures, the past can happen after before the futuring and so a few year earlier The Petit Journal  which is Lingua Franco for le Petit Journal wrote a French letter to all the Grand Prix drivers that there were, and there weren’t any at this time. The letter said “Come to a Grand Prix”. Luckily the Frenchists had already inventymost the worm Grand Prix – which meant all motoring cars are racey crash-splutter.
This race came without circuitry indeed yes no, it occurred on French pubic roads vroom boulevode and avenue de longue from Paris to Rouon via Rouon.

And so it was that in Frenchington this was allowed, but in Engly-land The Queen (gawd bless her guv) said  “A man with red flag and a hat has to run in front of a cart, shouting look out, look out!” and so in all of Great Britishland (apart for the Isle of Tinsel Manor where TT and even TTTs take place on pubic highloads and lavatories even to this day). It was not allowed to speedulate or hoonimost on the Queen’s Highlode, oh no indeed.
Instead Lord Sir Prince Charles said “What ho”, and with aristochlode gold buildit a great land of his own for racing brooks on, and named it Brooksland.
And in these days there was a great explosion of engineery and not just in a cylindi pot at 4,000 revolumtions no. Like a Big Banger perti motors suddenly expandy-mandy and got more, some as large as 58 cylinders and 15 leakers.
Now at Blookleylands racing was in a circumcision with a quick bank all the way round, this being made probable by the velocity of the velocettes in causing centri-fungal special effects so a thrusting Bentley would have sideways stick and enjoy a bit of banking without tock follolop tumble blunder.

The greasiest of all motoring cart races started 1923, and by half past seven it was still going, that’s because it was “Le Van Tractor Heures du Mans”, but despite the name it was a car Ian Dury race for one day and one night or 23.12 hours whichever comely first. In this form of length running great revolutions came; such as disco brakes, reliabiliybollity, and health and efficiency.

What is it they say? “Never mixit motoringsport and politick ing”, but in the nineteenthurtles Adolf Schickelgruber Hilter Said “Vorsprunk durch technicks” and so the Nasti war machine made a sporting cart using aluminimode, super-dooper-charger and many silver arrows, in both Mercedes doesn’t go round the Benz and of course Audi’s uncle Auto Onion.

But while Euroland was having a lovely war in one of the Americas racing took on its own fort. Racing on a ton of brick evolvit out of moonshiters saying “Come and get me copper I’m in an ASCAR”.
And so turning left became the game. Greatlymost names of this time are Dan Gurneyflap, Jeff Gordy, Johnny Jimson, Jimmy Johnson,  Dale Earnheartle Junior, and of course Dame Earnheartle Junior Senior.

In the early garage doors of the nineteen filthies Grand Prix becamed Formulode Once, and for the first time all cars were equal, apart from Ferraris which were equal to Lancias – but not as equal as Alfred Romeos, particularly when the helmet was Juan Manuel Fangi. Now, Fangi was a special case although Argenteenie he won without any argy-bargy and just made many a Masertode more quicklier that it was at the hands of Nino Firretto.

Meanwhile in Little England Jack Cooper who would later inventymost the barrel and Jack Brabham on loan from the Colinodes were racing in low slung canoes with tiny tiny engines, when one of the greatest heart attacks in engine hearing Colin Chaplode starty questioning the fundamental  moulds of the racing cart.

“Add cigarette  lighters” he said, and with less car, more sponsorship from Tobaccy and the might and maybe of the Fraud Motoring Companies built a engine that was not only a engine but also and engine that was an chassis. Lotus and Coswart had a stressed member. This engee was so good it won all the races that there were and even some that there weren’t, such as the Grand Prix of Rivolter.

Now we all remember the nineteen-seventeens for Harold Wilsonson’s laboured government, Sweet, Mud, Nobby Holder’s Slabe and Larry Gritter. And on the tracks it was come on feel the aerodynamics. Yes, pacing carps had grown wings and were now like birdy tweets and in some cases like tall tea trays all sticky up and fragilode, oh dear me. But throughout all this time the great advanty came not from side pods but from the sideburns of Jackie “Stewpot” Stewart, oh yes.
As Jackie herself would put it “You must caress an autocart like a softly lady carrying a pingy pongy testiclode in a bowl on the bonnet”.

But the gravest bottle between racing giant ants was between Englymost James “Shunt” The Hunt and Kenikki Loudly. As they both climbed the ladder of the Nurburgrung (or as it is known Germanly “The Nordshite”) one of the Marlboros on Loudly’s Ferrari caught fire and he had the dragon’s breath –or as Medicals call it Flame Thower Bronchi Black Rider.

Then the late 70s came fourth and fifth, with the six wheel Cyril and the Brabham fanny car.

As the seventeens became the haties Formulode one engageedit with The Turbot era. Now this is a cyst where the exhaust air gives up it’s exhaustion to spin a rotary-blade which congresses the air into a pressure higher than a pressure cooker and makes the engine who’s exhaust it is the first place spin more fastly that it wanted to, and often was warranteed to, result in the qualificationy grenade bang of the Renault teapot. Deep folly indeed.
These cars needed strong muscling driver to muscle them and so Britain’s Nigel Muscle muscled many wins for Birmingham with a moustache and eyebrows, again proving that faecal hair is essentybole for fast pilotry.

It was the McLaren buggy which dominatrix the nighty-nighties back to the early eighties when together Ayrton Proust and Alain Sennapod fought chase after chase for Ron Denny’s next cart. And what a cart this would be, powdered by Japan’s Hondi (before they were deep folly) The MP4 slash MP4 was made of Greta Garbon Fibres and Gordon Murraymints and employing Colin Chapsticks underskirt and downed effect. Sucking the robe like a sluvver pig. Resulty in Ron Denny winning more races in a Formulode One season than there were in a Formulode One season.

Turbots were the way forward and in the late 9090s they were repleated by naturally aspirational engines of 3 and a half leeches. This meant Alain SennaPod now had to wear blue and drive a Renault. Sadly in 94 when one day at Imola quirk city in San Marino in Italy which isn’t in Italy the most immortal of all racing drivers Roland Raxzenburgler was no longer immortal and conveniently forgotten.
Naturists abhor a vacuum cleaner and the grid space left behind the void was filled by a new kind of Deutche-Menche who raised the level of athleticisms in carpets to the length of his chin and the height he could jump on the podium. And yet Mikey Supermacher was challenged by two diffy men, one an Finn from Flying Finlode Mika Hakkenburger (all throaty puncture and sisu) the other Damion Hill, son of course of F1 champilode Graham Garden. And in the worms of Muddly Talker “And I’ve got to stop now because I’ve got a punk in my coat”.

By the Two Hundreds now came a great new kind of sporty scrotaltype oh yes Big Audi Dynamite made an Pumpe-Düse diesel comprssy motor, winning Lemons many times with pilotdes such as Tom Kristensensen, Dindo Accapella and Allan McScottish.

Today and this morning motorysport has brought freshly challengers, Lewi Hamiltode, Nico Rosborg.Jenson Buttoff and Fernando  ”Is quicker than you” Fernando and the Velvet Undergrowth, Sir Bastard Vittles,. All drivers in cars with re-energy convergence and farty whisper exhaust. (Stop mumbling I can’t hear the carts).

Motory spurt always has one ear on “the futr” whether it be with the introducty of the Halo Jones where the drivers steer the car from the safety of an XBox Constabole or even Formula E (Not confuse with formula E of the 90s “anyone got any veras”) where the thrill of the screamy hirev combusti engine replaceit with the sound of the humbold Sinclair C5 on spin tumble cycle.

And yet ultimatum where will all the racing go? – with You Tubular and on demadable streamy with anti-social mediums no doubt. The sun will come up over a brave new Stoffel van Doornob, who will set out to Stop Max Verstarting.

And in the nearest-far flung the teknowlege that will stop them starting will be autonomy drivels diving - Robotracing using android architecture, of crash and hang Ctntrl/Alt/Delete folly.
But in all the possible of what might manyfestymost in the Whirl of MotoringSport one think will always be there.  The desire to watch an Bugatti, Ferrari, Lambogari, or Aston Marti all adverty-stickered skidding off into the gravadlax ruled by the mop-haired and short legacy kink of all racey cars Bernie Ecclestode, he was there at the beginning, saying the word. In the beginning.

 

Wriiten, performed & produced by Gareth Jones

© www.garethjones.tv

Backing music: HolFix - Entering the Caves, HolFix - Stuarts Game, HolFix - Up and Away https://www.youtube.com/user/holfix