What drama. After a week-long build-up to the first race of the 2015 F1 season, the race was over before it event started for three drivers – Red Bull Racing rookie Daniil Kyvat, McLaren’s Kevin Magnussen and Williams’ Valtteri Bothas all forced to withdraw due to mechanical failures and injury respectively. That left just 15 cars on the starting grid and only 11 managed to finish, reigning champion Lewis Hamilton streaking the field for his first victory of the year ahead of team-mate Nico Rosberg and new Ferrari recruit Sebastian Vettel.
Local lad Dan Ricciardo came home in sixth, effectively where he started, while the race was largely incident-free bar mechanical dramas four several cars. Regardless, it made for an entertaining race – more intriguing than thrilling. But an epic spectacle nonetheless.
And we have a winner. If you looked up “wanker” in the culinary dictionary, you’re almost certain to come across what passed as our breakfast Sunday morning. What can only be described as some sort of fritter with macadamias, pumpkin, undescribed leaves and an an egg served at exactly 37 degrees – seriously. It was recommended we enjoy it with a “magic” coffee – double ristretto and 3/4 milk. As good as it all tasted, we felt like kooks. Not entirely sure it balanced out.
A glorious Melbourne morning. And by the angle and creases in that flag, we’d suggest the wind is blowing a nor-wester at about 10 knots? Is that even a term for wind?
“Seriously, you can stand ANYWHERE else! We’re trying to remind people of the joys of the 1920s entertainment already.”
This bloke is wound up. And beating out his frustration in a PC manner.
White dudes dressing as stereotype Mexicans.Not sure what’s worse here – the racist undertones or that they’re wearing jorts.
“Swap sunglasses you say. It’ll be fun you say. Then this happens. I hate you.”
Heaven on earth from heaven.
“Someone’s gotta take the fight to these Brazilians. They put the rest of us flagbearers to shame.”
If you’re walking this carper you’re either a very important person or someone who paid a dickload of money to look so. Either way, kudos.
“It’s not a tumour!”
We’d be pissed to be on this Qantas flight. As if it wasn’t bad enough to be on a long-haul flight for the past 14 hours, now they’re landing’s been delayed for some theatrics… Pretty cool from where we were but.
Even we’re surprised by who our fans are sometimes.
Shoulder to shoulder. F1 Army.
Ferrari in vogue. The visual definition of Italian.
No matter how many times he tries to scratch his helmet, his chin remains itchy. But you can’t tell a world champ nothin’.
The final countdown.
Setting up the early morning F1 farmers market.
The green lights fade. Nico Rosberg makes his getaway.
The battle for the crown.
Lewis Hamilton chilling in the pits. Had that much of a lead he couldn’t jammed in a quick scone and tea.
Hamilton re-entering the course.
Living proof of the biggest party of the year. If this is what every F1 party looks like, we want int.
Those eyes. And an F1 driver to boot. Marcus Ericsson, you motherfucker.
