QUEUE-Y LEWIS, AND THE BLUES

Poor Lewis Hamilton. A few weeks ago he had it all. Miles ahead in the race for the Formula One championship, a shoe-in for BBC Sports Personality of the Year and best of all, an invitation to appear at the MTV Awards in Germany, driving Snoop Doggy Dogg onstage - in a huge pimp Cadillac.

Since then he’s driven into a gravel pit like a pensioner attempting to reverse on Brighton beach, lost out on the F1 crown and was described yesterday as ‘nothing special’ by Max Mosley, the President of the FIA racing body, though I’m sure this had nothing to do with the colour of Hamilton’s skin and the fact that Max is the son of 1930’s super-fascist Sir Oswald Mosley.

Lewis, who must also have driven over quite a few black cats in the last fortnight, was informed at the last minute that he wouldn’t be able to travel to Germany by private jet as planned, as all the landing spaces were fully booked (probably by Craig David bringing his entire sunglasses collection over one by one).

Instead, Hamilton had to queue up for a normal commercial flight with other mortals. When he reached the check-in he was informed that business class was full (of sunglasses) and despite his best ‘Do you know who I am’s’ he was forced to travel economy class to Germany, meaning he missed his chance to chauffeur Snoop onstage.

Luckily, he took all this in his stride by refusing to do a single interview, despite the fact that he has a book out next week, and thus falling out with his PR team. Presumably the book is called ‘That’s It! I Wish I Were Dead…”