Old-school playboys, cavaliers, pantomime villains… Motorsports have never been short of an ‘eccentric’ (or, if they aren’t English, ‘seriously unhinged’) character or two. If we had to construct a racing hero, he’d turn up worse-for-wear to race day, ignore team orders, finish first to scupper the championship hopes of his team mate (who of course, he loathes) before strutting off with the team owner’s wife on one arm and Miss Costa Rica on the other – leaving nothing behind but a hint of Old Spice. This isn’t just a retro seventies thing (although the above scenario did happen on an almost weekly basis back then): bad-boy behaviour is part of motorsport’s DNA in a...
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