Kirsty Moore, Flight Lieutenant, Royal Air Force, aged 32, has a masters degree in aeronautical engineering, and flies Tornado GR4's in tactical air combat as a day job.

The ultimate woman driver, she has added another string to her bow. As the first woman to break the male monopoly of the 45-year-old squad of aerobatic aces known as the Red Arrows.

She really does not want to be the centre of attraction wherever the Red Arrows land for the next three years, but that is a forlorn hope. She will certainly attract hordes of press photographers, as she did when she was 'introduced' to the world on Armistice Day, but she is capable of taking it in her stride. She knows she made the team through merit, and that is what counts!

Man or woman, it is a remarkable achievement to join the Red Arrows. The RAF's fast jet pilots are the cream of British aviation talent; each year between 30 and 40 pilots apply to join the Reds, and this year only two were chosen. Kirsty is not the first woman to apply, but she is the first to make it through an arduous selection process that microscopically examines attitude, compatibility, presentability and flying skill. It is clear that the other Reds treat Kirsty not as an honorary man, but as a woman fighter pilot.

She says her strawberry-blonde hair looks a lurid shade of orange when she stands next to a bright red aircraft (oh dear, what happens when she qualifies to wear the red suit as well?). In the mess they tease her for having ginger hair, an allegation she rejects. Said one of her teammates, "She is ginger and has the temper to prove it."

"I used to be fairly feisty, but I'm much more mellow now," Moore counters. "In fact, I tie my hair back most of the time because I wear a helmet to fly or ride the bike, so there's not much else you can do with it."

In the mid-nineties I had the good fortune to meet, on several occasions, 'Red-10' the 'Road Manager' of the team of that time. Inevitably the conversation always veered around to the 'how', 'when', 'why' and 'where' of the day-to-day running of the team (his job) and the retelling of some events that were not for general public consumption. I shall obviously not disclose any of those stories, but here are some 'insider' tips about the aerobatic team for the next time you are lucky enough to see them.

• During displays, the aircraft do not fly directly over the crowd; any manoeuvres in front of and parallel to the audience can be as low as 300 feet. The 'synchro pair' can go as low as 100 feet straight and level, or 150 feet when in inverted flight.


• According to the 'Road Manager' the greatest asset in the Red's arsenal of aerobatic tricks is the public's eye. We apparently only get a two-dimensional view of their performance and always assume they are closer to each other than they actually are!


• The smoke trails left by the team are made by releasing diesel into the exhaust; this oxidises straight away, leaving a white smoke trail. Dyes can be added to produce the red and blue colour. If the diesel doesn't oxidise and descends to ground level still in liquid or vapour form it causes a lot of damage to the clothes of the spectators. You have been warned!


• The 'Road Manager' considers himself to be the hardest working member of the team. I would have been surprised if he hadn't claimed that privilege! He flies the 'spare', precedes the team to the display area, lands, taxis to the holding area, and then sprints to the microphone to introduce the team who are, by now, barrelling in from a totally unexpected direction, designed to confuse him. He provides the commentary during the display, calling attention to some of the more spectacular manoeuvres, and getting his revenge on the team members by adding little comments like, "Come on eight and nine, they're leaving you behind!". At the end of the display he then has to sprint to his aircraft and put his foot down to get ahead of the team whilst they are en-route to their next venue, land, and do it all over again.

I wish Kirsty Moore and the rest of the team the very best of good fortune during their tour of duty, 2009 to 2012, which coincidentally culminate in displays at the London Olympics.

I would like to leave you with a short video of a guy whom I consider to be probably the best pilot in the world.

All because of this little incident ...

Later ...

David McMahon


has left the stage. David has abandoned blogland (authorblog) to concentrate on his writing. The last I heard from him he had submitted his second novel to the publishers and was quite a way through the second novel!

No, you didn’t read that wrong. Nor did I mistype it.

His second novel was to be 'The Jadhu Master', but it looks like his publishers managed to convince him that he should complete his THIRD novel, 'Muskoka Maharani' ahead of schedule, which he obligingly did. And we all know how obliging he can be!

I could eulogise the man with several paragraphs, but I think he would be embarrassed and dismissive, so I won't do that now. Perhaps another day!

This post is to update regular visitors to his site that one of his regular features, "The Sunday Roast" will not now succumb to his departure.

The good news is that fellow blogger, Eddie Bluelights of Clouds and Silvery Linings, will be picking up where David left off (at David's request I might add), and will continue this feature starting mid-October.

I have bookmarked Eddie's site so that I can follow the feature. Why don't you do the same?

Catch you later …

It has been one hell of a week (and a bit) in the world of Formula One motor racing. The most dramatic and spine-chilling event was the crash that Felipe Massa had during the last seconds of the second qualifying session (Q2) on Saturday, 25^th July, in Hungary. The world has been watching, and I am glad to say it has subsequently turned out to be a "Good News" story.

By now almost everybody is familiar with the tale, but I thought I would add a little postscript. During my searches of the Official F1 Website I was glad to see that an effort had been made to explain the accident, and to graphically show what the 'experts' thought had happened.

It is much the way I described it in my previous post. They have published a detailed description about where the damper spring impacted the car and driver, information they must have collected on further inspection of the remains of the car, and they surmise that the spring, collected by the front left wheel shot up and struck the car initially at 'arrow-1', then struck the cockpit at 'arrow-2', and then shattered Massa's visor above the left eye.

Good. I thank them profusely for the explanation. But where the hell are 'arrows 1 & 2' in the tiny graphic that these guys posted? I found them, but not before lifting the picture and blowing it up in my own graphic software!

So I went looking for a 'zooming' script that could enlarge areas of a small web graphic when a 'magnifying-window' is moved over areas of the original by passing the mouse cursor over it. I was successful, indeed I had several scripts to choose from. I've earmarked one for use on my fully-fledged website as it takes a series of complicated JQuery/JavaScript coding to make it work. However, here is one that is simple to implement, and which will do the job just fine as far as a blogger template and page is concerned. Did I mention it is FREE?

Move your cursor over any part of the small image and you will see a small translucent square with crosshairs. Moving that square around the small image will enlarge the area covered by the square in a (hidden) window to the right of it.

I think that is pretty cool, and will write it up as a TIP on the Playpen in a day or two. If you are interested, that is where you will find the information. And a link to the author's page. Let's be fair about this; he did all the work, I'm only using it. Must remember to make a small donation via PayPal for his efforts! (done!)

Here are some of the other 'goings-ons' in the Formula One world, most of which is of little or no interest to the average person. But I shall list them anyway ...

• The FIA promises to investigate 'debris-related' accidents.


• BMW announce that they will be withdrawing from Formula One at the end of the season.


• Ferrari plan to substitute Schumacher for Massa for the rest of the season.


• Australia Post is to issue special 55-cent stamps featuring three different images of Webber to commemorate his maiden Formula One win in Germany.


• 2009 Concorde Agreement signed. The Concorde Agreement - a contract between the FIA, Formula One racing's commercial rights-holder and the participating teams - sets out the basis on which the teams participate in the championship and share in its commercial success.


• Michael Schumacher begins training, but cannot use the Ferrari F60 (the 2009 car) due to the current rules that do not allow testing of the cars during the summer break.


• Ferrari write to the FIA and the other teams asking that this rule be relaxed due to the circumstances. 17 teams agree; Williams DO NOT. Schumacher must continue practicing in the 2007 car.


• Nelson Piquet Jnr is sacked by Renault.


• Felipe Massa flies home to Brazil to recuperate.

That's a brief round-up. I hope there isn't going to be any more of this sort of behind-the-scenes activity for the rest of the month of August.

I need the rest ...

I

know I said in one of the earlier F1 posts that I would return to the subject from time to time, especially when I felt a rant coming on. Well, here I am again, sooner than I thought!

They will line up on the grid tomorrow (ermm... today, actually) at 13:00 hours GMT (UTC for the rabid politically-correct brigade), but there will only be 19 of the 20 cars there.

Felipe Massa of Ferrari won't be making it. If the truth be told he is lucky to be alive, let alone think about participating in the race. The result of a horrible 'accident', in the truest sense of the word.

The final seconds of Q2 (second qualifying session) saw Reubens Barrichello of Brawn-GP (coincidentally, a Brazilian like Massa), lose a chunk of metal that looked like a huge coil spring, from his rear gubbins (sorry, don't know the technical term) which didn't clear the track. Massa was the first driver to hurtle around the bend and one of his front wheels (too fast for even the TV replays to identify which one) scooped up the debris that was hurled into the visor of his helmet. He was knocked unconscious and his foot slammed down on the accelerator. The car slewed through one corner, crossed the track, and then ran off on the other side of the track at a tremendous speed, straight into the tyre wall. The car's onboard camera shows that his hands only left the wheel when they were shaken free by the impact.

This is the sort of head-on impact that makes the blood run cold.

 
Felipe Massa a split second away from disaster ...

It certainly didn't do Massa any good. The track officials got to him rapidly. The doctor was only seconds behind, and the ambulance wasn't too far behind him. Massa was stretchered off to the Course Medical Facility. We knew that things were serious when one of the two helicopters on the helipad wound up its rotors.

The latest news on young Felipe is that he has undergone surgery for a cut on his forehead, concussion and a 'bone lesion of the skull'. The result of the surgery was declared successful, that he is stable and that he is under observation in intensive care. The initial prognosis is that he won't be racing for at least six weeks. I am sure he will give thanks that he will be able to race at all. Ferrari will be issuing an update on his condition later this morning.

Get well, fella. We're with you!

Now for the 'rant'.

Q3 was delayed while Massa was being 'medevacced', the remains of his car were returned to the Ferrari garage, and the track was inspected for further debris that could cause a similar accident. Nothing was apparently found. Wonder where the 'rear damper spring' (I did my homework) disappeared to?

Q3 ended with a spectacle that I have NEVER seen in all the many years I have followed this glorious sport.

YOU COULDN'T MAKE THIS UP - HONEST!

Fernando Alonso (Renault) stuck his car into the P1 slot, then jumped out of his car and asked Sebastian Vettel (Red Bull) and Mark Webber (Red Bull) and any other driver he came across what their qualifying time was. All the drivers appeared to be comparing notes about their qualifying times because it seemed that the official time keepers had lost the plot somehow!

Between them, the drivers decided that Alonso could claim P1, Vettel should have P2 and Webber was allowed P3. And, believe it or not, that is exactly how they will start the race tomorrow later today!

Honestly, you had to see the pantomime to wonder at how much of a farce it had degenerated into! Since when have the monkeys dictated to the organ-grinders? - (see my update below ...)

It could only happen in F1 ...

Update: Statement issued by the FIA on 29 July 2009

In the closing minutes of the Q3 qualifying session for the FORMULA 1 ING MAGYAR NAGYDIJ 2009, the Official Live Timing system did not update the timing screens. This was due to the finish line sensor suffering mechanical failure in the form of a damaged cable.

Well established back up procedures ensured that no data was lost and complete results for the qualifying session were quickly established and released. Formula One Management would like to clarify that at no time was this the result of the failure of any equipment supplied by LG, the Official Data Processor of F1.

Another YouTube offering using Windows Live Writer to access the link, and a simple copy/paste of the 'embed' code from the original YouTube page automatically throws up your selection in the WLW window.

TIP: Before you select the 'embed' code click on the 'options' button and select to display a frame, choosing the colours on offer to match your page. Then select the 'embed' code which will now have all the information included. The vid-insert in the previous post used the identical steps from this post, but I forgot to use the 'frame' feature!

That's the last of the 'Girls' series.

Hopefully I have managed to 'kill two birds' with these posts, using 'Girls' as the topic, but showing how WLW can help you to craft and display your posts without too much hair-pulling involved.

If the many references to WLW has piqued your interest, click on one of the links to take you to the Playpen for more information.

'Till next time ...

This video snippet might be construed as a bit of a 'sexist' or an 'ageist' dig, but I hasten to assure my visitors that it is posted as a tribute to a bunch of 'grannies' who absolutely do not understand the word 'cannot'.

I readily admit to being a bit of a Reginald Molehusband, Reginald Molehusband was a fictional character who starred in a public information film, shown on British TV during the 1960's. Molehusband was depicted as the country's worst driver when it came to parking his Austin 1100 car.

The name of Reginald Molehusband has entered common parlance in Great Britain to refer to any accident-prone driver.

Now you know!

despite having held a HGV ticket in later life. It has expired now, but I've always been proud of the fact that I managed to qualify on only the second go. The first test saw me tussle with a bus on a roundabout. I won, but the examiner didn't see it my way!

I am particularly fond of the 'script' for the Reginald Molehusband film that was shown on the BBC. No copy of the film exists, but the script has gone down in the annals of film history:

This is the story of Reginald Molehusband, married, two children, whose reverse parking was a public danger. People came from miles just to see it. Bets were laid on his performance. What he managed to miss at the back, he was sure to make up for at the front. Bus drivers and taxis changed their routes to avoid him. Until the day that Reginald Molehusband did it right. Not too close, far enough forward... come on Reginald... and reverse in slowly... come on.... and watching traffic... and park perfectly! Well done Reginald Molehusband, the safest parker in town.

Since no film of Reginald (or me) exists, you will just have to 'watch-and-wonder' at these daredevil grannies doing their stuff on Top Gear ...

Whew! Great fun, huh?

Now don't you take this as an invitation to go out and do the same thing with the family car!

'Till the next 'girls' post ...

P.S.
This was a video upload using the WLW built-in YouTube link. Enter the URL and WLW does the rest. Check on the YouTube page that 'embedding' is allowed.

This is Engelbert Humperdinck's version of the popular song, "To All The Girls I've Loved Before". I am fond of the song, and the sentiment it expresses, although I am not necessarily a fan of 'Smarmy-Engy'. Nor do I have much in common with the 'star'.

Except that he is Anglo-Indian by birth and upbringing.

As I am.

So where did I go wrong?

What made me choose this less than universally acceptable vid to regale you with? You may well ask!

The answer is SIZE!

I've been plugging WLW (Windows Live Writer) on the Playpen for some time now, and it appears nobody is taking up the challenge.

This vid is the largest blog-type vid I have on my hard drive. HUGE at 31MB, and I thought I'd give WLW a chance to disappoint me by refusing to accept the upload. It didn't! That's kewl, peeps!

More than that, a simple click on the 'tools' menu in the R/H column of WLW allowed me to upload all 31MB to something called 'soapbox', not a depository I am familiar with. But hey, I'll take the space wherever I can get it, especially if it is free and if it 'formats' the final product to display it as well as it has done. Honest, I had no input into how the final display appears!

Go activate your copy of WLW ...

P.S.
The title is the first in a series of three. You'll have to wait for the others. But not for too long ...

A friend of many years past, called John, came to mind the other day while I was stirring the cauldron in which I make my Sangria. Not unlike Willy Shakespeare's Witches, 'hubble-ing' and 'bubble-ing' (Macbeth, Act 1, Scene 3), except I do it all on my lonesome, rarely cackle, and do it all in a decorously masculine way!

John and his wife were holidaying in northern Spain not too far from where I was pitched on a caravan site. They chose to visit us one day and were treated to a slap-up meal, a curry supper à la Hyacinth Bucket, a typically Dutch dish from the couple on the terrace below, and a spaghetti concoction from the two Italian student-doctors from the same level as the Dutch. I provided the Sangria which, in Spain, is akin to 'taking coals to Newcastle'. John polished off a couple of glasses without them touching the sides and declared the Sangria a winner. Better than the tepid beer alternative. His wife knocked back a couple of glasses in a similar fashion. I decided to 'warn' against the driver consuming any more, and was informed that she had drawn the short straw so it was OK for John to continue - said John!

The evening was a delight, duly lubricated by several rounds of the nectar-like Sangria. It even included an impromptu demonstration by the two Italian boys on how to cook spaghetti. The demo included a testing phase where one of them dipped his fingers into the pan of water and removed a couple of strands of spaghetti and threw them at the bare chest of the other. If they stuck, the spaghetti was cooked. After each failed attempt the strands of spaghetti were retrieved from wherever they fell and returned to the pot to continue boiling. Don't try this one at home, especially in a confined kitchen space!

Like all good things the evening had to come to an end.

Around midnight our non-camper guests said their rather raucous and unintelligible goodbyes, poured themselves into the car, aimed it at the entrance gates of the camp-site, which fortunately were the exit gates as well, intending to join the motorway that would take them home.

Many months later I ran into John whilst we were attending a 3-day military seminar run by the RAF. It was 'attendance-only' and there was no pressure on either of us to complete course work and the like. John, on one of our several sessions in the bar, recounted the saga of the journey home after that night on the Sangria. It was apparently indelibly etched into his subconscious, and to emphasise the fact he declared that he had never touched a drop of Sangria since that evening!

Mrs John (to save a blush or two), a strong-willed woman at the best of times, had chosen to ignore my advice about the driver not drinking any more of my lethal brew. She had apparently quaffed several glasses whilst my back was turned. She could still see, barely, to keep the car on the road, but Spanish road signs were her downfall. She made it to the motorway, but opted to go in the opposite direction. John recalled that he indulged in some feeble defiance, but was too far gone to care. Eventually the penny dropped, about the time they had to pull off the motorway to spend one, and then they tried to decipher the road map that they carried for just such emergencies. The fanfolds defeated the pair of them!

The epic, as narrated by John, was long and eventful, filled with descriptions of inebriated attempts to speak Spanish (neither of them could speak the language when sober), attempting to get directions so that they could start travelling north instead of continuing further south. To cut to the chase - they eventually made it home in one piece. Lucky them!

John was asked to open the gate to the walled compound so that Mrs John could drive the car to safety. That task apparently defeated him too. So she abandoned the car where she had stopped it, and as far as she was concerned that is where it was going to spend the night. It did. Safely. They managed to stagger up a couple of flights of steps to their fancy apartment and Mrs John decided her day was done. Fully clothed she spread-eagled herself, comatose, across both sides of the bed. John's defiance still hadn't reached the stages of rebellion so he curled up in a ball in front of the built-in wardrobe, also fully clothed, and quickly reached the state of euphoria his wife was enjoying.

About four thirty in the morning John decided that he really needed to go out for a slow walk, down to the seafront and back, to combat the moving ceiling that kept creeping up on his unconscious state. I could sympathise; been there, seen it, done it. And that damn ceiling always seems to move in a circular motion!

John recollected that as he staggered to the sea front, his legs refusing to do what his addled brain was telling them to, that if somebody had been looking for an ambassador to represent the drunken Brit abroad, he was waaaaay out in front as the most qualified candidate.

All because of something that looks as innocuous and inviting as this ...

I intend to put up the recipe, somewhere, blow by blow, if a few of you want to try it out. It takes about 5 minutes to make, and even less to drink it.

Saude ...

Update: Recipe-hunters click here (opens in a new window). Enjoy!

A short time ago I penned a post that introduced you to Rambo, and I was pleased with the response from visitors who thought it was a hoot. One regular even coerced her family into watching the video and reported back that they all enjoyed it. That's the sort of feedback that a blogger thrives on!

I now have to declare that I got one salient fact totally wrong.

Sex.

Rambo is now Rainbow. And that is official.

'Sexing' an Agapornis rosiecollis The Peach-faced Lovebird (Agapornis roseicollis), also known as the Rosy-faced Lovebird, is a species of lovebird native to arid regions in southwestern Africa such as the Namib Desert. A loud and constant chirper, these birds are very social animals and often congregate in small groups in the wild. They eat throughout the day and take frequent baths.

Finding a pair of these birds for breeding is not easy because their sex is not easily determined. The sex can be determined by the pelvic bones which in males measure 1-3 mm while measuring 6-8 mm in females.

is a bit of a 'hit-or-miss' affair. So, getting it wrong is par for the course. Rainbow only started to show signs that she was a female when we observed her reactions to Barney, the dominant male, who also happens to be her 'grandfather' in human terms. Each time he showed an element of aggression towards her, she would crouch down with her wings spread, a sure sign of female submissiveness in the species.

At first we found all this amusing, but on reflection it is a bit of a problem. We know she is a 'special needs' bird, but since we aren't going to tell her that, she carries on with her life as if everything is normal. She craves company, and since the other birds tend to instinctively attack her, apparently knowing something about her is 'wrong', something that we are unable to identify, she turns to her humans for that company. It is fun to keep her amused for an hour or two, but she can be as demanding as any hyperactive child, with the added problem that we can't explain that we are tired, and that by forcibly returning her to her cage we are not being cruel. Or perhaps that is the easy part - not having to offer an explanation?

Nevertheless, she is the star attraction for all who drop in on us, especially family and close friends. They are all aware that we have her, and they can barely manage a cursory greeting at the door, before making straight for Rainbow's cage to invite her out to play. She is then carried about the house as if it is the most normal thing in the world to walk around with a tiny bird perched on one's head, shoulders, hands, fingers, whatever! And, of course, she absolutely loves the attention.

Here are a series of recent shots showing the grandson 'bonding' with the bird even though he wasn't too sure about it at first.

  
  
(click on any thumbnail for a larger image)

Regular readers of this blog will put it down to just another 'nutty day' at the 'nuthouse'!

We call it home.

Come back again, soon ...

For a major corporate entity it appears that Ralph Nader's thinking is not advice that the FIA consider relevant, and that's a shame. Not that many people pay attention to Ralphie's Rants! But they could make an effort to listen to the siren calls of their fanbase to get it right!

Malaysia, Kuala Lumpur (Sempang), a week later. The FIA, barely over the Trulli-Hamilton debacle, were faced with BMW Sauber lodging their complaint against the teams that were using the new diffusers. For the unitiated, this is pure politics, not something that a team felt strongly about. The original complaint having been dismissed in Melbourne, the teams that lodged the complaint needed to have somebody reopen the wound or they would not have been able to raise the issue again on the grounds that it would have been 'inadmissable' under the current rules. So, BMW lodging their complaint forced the issue, and the International Court of Appeal (I mentioned the stuffed shirts in the previous post) had no choice but to schedule a meeting to hear the complaints and the appeals against the previous decision. They will also drag McLaren before the court to investigate the alleged 'lies' served up at the previous Stewards hearing in Melbourne.

And all this is to take place in Paris a few days before the Shanghai meeting, which is half a world away. I wonder whose interests these blockheads think they are serving?

Got carried away there! Back to Malaysia. The race was scheduled to start at 17.00 hours (5 in the afternoon if you're still using the funny clock), a time of day renowned for heavy rain at this time of the year. Why would anybody, no matter how inefficient they are, want to calendar a race meet knowing that rain is guaranteed?

And rain it did. Boy, did it chuck it down! A couple of madcap laps in those conditions, with drivers ducking into the pits to change and re-change tyres, and the safety car was deployed. The race continued valiantly under the pacing of the safety car, but after SEVEN drivers aquaplaned on apparently safe stretches of the circuit, the straight bits, it was decided to 'red-flag' the race. So we were faced with the spectacle of a whole bunch of drivers sitting in their open cockpits with a multitude of mechanics fiddling with the cars, even preparing to change tyres if necessary, and other lackeys holding aloft umbrellas so that the drivers didn't drown in a sitting position.

  
  
  
All photographs courtesy of and © 2009 Official F1 Site

Honestly, you couldn't make it up! Nobody, and I mean nobody, seemed to know what was going on. Not the teams, not the television presenters, and certainly not the spectators - live or watching on television. Then word filtered through that the stewards were considering restarting the race. What? Under those conditions?

Yes! They apparently felt it would be OK for the cars to do another EIGHT laps under the safety car so that they would be able to complete 75% of the race and claim full points. Whereas, if the race was abandoned at that stage of the race, the drivers could only gain half the points. Them's the rules, see?

From where I was sitting, at an ungodly hour in the morning I might add, I could only whack the side of my head in disbelief. They were planning to send the drivers around in the rain, in a procession because they would not be able to 'race' behind the safety car, so that they could meet the absolute rule that full points could only be awarded to the drivers if they completed 75% of the race. But the placings would be the same after another 8 laps as they were at the time of the stoppage. So who was the dumbcluck that was making this decision? Facelesss to the last, I'm afraid.

Commonsense prevailed. The race was abandoned and the drivers climbed out of their cars with obvious relief on their faces. Jenson Button was adjudged the winner, and I have to say that I cannot tell you who came in second and third without looking it up, as I had lost interest by then! Half the race points were awarded, and I suspect that that might yet be an area for appeal by the teams and drivers if the end of the season is decided by a single point or two - or worse, half a point!

Will I stay up to watch the Shanghai 'hi-jinks'? You betcha!

Wouldn't miss it for the world ...

Update: (15 April 2009)

The court of appeal has upheld the decisions of the stewards in Melbourne and Kuala Lumpur to declare the diffusers in question to be 'legal' within the design guidelines published prior to the start of the season. What a surprise - NOT!

The fact is that, Brawn GP, Toyota and Williams, the three teams about whom the complaints were lodged, submitted the plans for the diffusers at each design and engineering stage of their pre-season build, and each time those submissions had been scrutinised and passed by the FIA technical directors.

Equally, it is clear that the diffusers are not a 'bolt-on' addition that the other teams can slap on after taking a stroll round to their local Halford's. At the very least the gearbox has to be redesigned to divert the airflow towards the diffusers to make them perform as designed. That means that all the other teams who do not have these diffusers now have to play 'catch-up'. So you can understand the labyrinthine politics, especially when massive amounts of money are involved. And it looks like Ferrari are in the forefront of the 'whingers'. Another surprise - NOT!

I have no doubt that the bigger teams like Ferrari and McLaren (who have NOT complained - correction, 22 Apr 09: they've had a whinge, too!) will already have started work on redesigning their gearbox and engine placement in anticipation of the decision going against them. But it will take 3 or 4 more races for them to become competitive, not to mention the extra testing that needs to be carried out.

I say "Good Luck" to Brawn, Toyota and Williams, and may the outcome of the races continue to be decided on the track and not in some dingy committe room!