The Silence Before the Storm

In the high-octane world of Formula 1, silence is rarely a sign of peace; usually, it means the engineers are up to something. As the sport gears up for the revolutionary regulation overhaul set for 2026, the paddock has been relatively quiet regarding the specifics of the new power units. That was, until now. A seismic shockwave has just rippled through the motorsport community, originating from a leak that threatens to turn the 2026 championship into a foregone conclusion before a single wheel has even turned.

At the heart of this brewing storm is a controversial engineering loophole—a “magic trick” hidden within the fine print of the FIA’s technical regulations. If the whispers circulating in the paddock are to be believed, Mercedes may have already secured the 2026 World Championship, leaving rivals like Ferrari, Honda, and newcomer Audi fighting for scraps. This isn’t a story about a broken wing or a tire strategy; it is a fundamental crisis of competition that has the sport’s governing body, the FIA, caught in an impossible checkmate.

The Magic Number: 16-to-1

To understand the magnitude of this controversy, one must first delve into the technical weeds of the 2026 rulebook. In an effort to level the playing field and encourage new manufacturers like Audi to join the fray, the FIA introduced a strict limit on engine compression ratios.

For years, the gold standard has been a ratio of 18:1—a figure that represents how tightly the air and fuel mixture is squeezed inside the cylinder before ignition. In layman’s terms: the tighter the squeeze, the bigger the bang, and the more horsepower is delivered to the wheels. For 2026, the FIA slashed this limit down to 16:1. The intention was clear: lower the ceiling to prevent established giants from running away with performance advantages derived from complex, ultra-high-compression designs.

However, rules in Formula 1 are merely challenges waiting to be solved. It appears that Mercedes, and to a lesser extent Red Bull, have found a way to have their cake and eat it too. They haven’t broken the rule; they have simply outsmarted the test used to enforce it.

Weaponizing Heat: The “Thermal Trick”

The crux of the loophole lies in how the FIA polices the sport. The compression ratio checks are performed “statically,” meaning the engine is measured when it is cold, sitting dormant in the garage. Under these specific conditions, the Mercedes power unit complies perfectly with the 16:1 regulation. It is legal. It is compliant. It is safe.

But a Formula 1 engine does not race in a garage. It races at 15,000 RPM, generating immense heat and pressure. This is where the genius—or the cheating, depending on who you ask—comes into play.

According to technical experts, including renowned analyst Gary Anderson, Mercedes has engineered their engine components with materials designed to expand thermally in a very specific manner. As the engine heats up during a race, the metal expands. This expansion causes the combustion chamber to shrink ever so slightly—we are talking about a minuscule 0.5 millimeters. Yet, in the precision world of F1, half a millimeter is a canyon.

This shrinkage effectively raises the compression ratio back up to the old standard of 18:1, or perhaps even higher, once the car is at full speed. The result? A power unit that acts like a regulated engine in the pits but transforms into a high-compression rocket on the track.

The unfair Advantage: 0.4 Seconds Per Lap

This is not a theoretical gain or a marginal improvement. Insider reports suggest that this thermal trick could be worth up to 0.4 seconds per lap. In a sport where pole positions are often decided by thousandths of a second, four-tenths is an eternity. It is the difference between fighting for a win and struggling to make it out of Q2.

If these numbers hold true, the implications are catastrophic for the competition. It’s not just the factory Mercedes team that benefits. McLaren, Williams, and Alpine—who all use Mercedes customer engines—would also inherit this massive advantage. That is eight cars on the grid starting the season with a car that is fundamentally faster than the rest.

While Red Bull is reportedly aware of the trick and attempting to replicate it, rumor has it they are months behind. Reports from Italy suggest Red Bull hired a former Mercedes engineer who brought the concept with them, but reverse-engineering such a complex thermal system is proving difficult. Mercedes, having had a reported year-long head start, has effectively locked in their advantage.

The Rivals Revolt

Unsurprisingly, the reaction from the rest of the grid has been incandescent rage. Ferrari, Honda, and Audi find themselves staring down the barrel of a lost decade. These manufacturers have invested hundreds of millions of dollars into their 2026 programs, only to find out they might be racing for second place.

The anger is compounded by the timeline. F1 operates under strict homologation rules. Once the season begins, engine designs are “frozen” or locked to control costs. Major architectural changes, like redesigning a combustion chamber to exploit thermal expansion, cannot simply be slapped on halfway through the year. If Mercedes starts 2026 with this advantage, rivals might not be able to introduce a fix until 2027. By then, the championship momentum would be overwhelmingly in Mercedes’ favor.

Behind closed doors, tensions are reportedly reaching a boiling point. Team principals are demanding the FIA intervene immediately. They argue that while the trick technically follows the letter of the law, it violates the spirit of the regulations intended to create a fair fight.

The FIA’s Nightmare Scenario

This places the FIA in a disastrous no-win situation.

Option A: Ban the trick immediately. If the FIA outlaws this thermal expansion method now, they effectively destroy the Mercedes 2026 power unit. Mercedes has built their entire concept around this architecture. Forcing a redesign this close to the deadline—with the March 1st homologation date looming—would be an engineering and logistical nightmare, potentially leaving Mercedes without a competitive engine for the season opener in Australia. It would be viewed as a direct punishment for innovation.

Option B: Allow it. If the FIA does nothing, they risk a 2026 season that is a procession, a snooze-fest where the winner is decided before the lights go out. This would alienate fans, anger stakeholders, and ruin the commercial appeal of the sport’s new era.

Currently, rumors suggest a compromise is being floated: allow the trick for 2026 only, then ban it for 2027. This would give rivals a year to catch up or wait for the ban to kick in. However, to Ferrari and Audi, this “compromise” sounds like a surrender—a free pass for Mercedes to dominate the inaugural year of the new regulations.

A War of Philosophy

Beyond the technical jargon, this scandal strikes at the very soul of Formula 1. What is this sport supposed to be? Is it a pure engineering contest where the smartest mind wins, regardless of the spectacle? Or is it an entertainment product that requires a level playing field?

Mercedes has seemingly done what F1 teams exist to do: read the rules and find the fastest way around them. In previous eras, this would be celebrated as “genius.” But in the modern, cost-capped, entertainment-focused era of Liberty Media, “genius” that kills competition is viewed as a liability.

As the clock ticks down to the 2026 season, the “Thermal Loophole” has turned the paddock into a battlefield. The cars haven’t even been launched, but the war for the championship is already raging. Whether the FIA chooses to reward innovation or protect the show, one thing is certain: the fallout from this decision will echo through every lap of the coming era.

Kimi Raikkonen marked his return to Formula One in 2012 with an appearance on the hit BBC motoring show Top Gear, but despite a well-received interview, he ruffled some feathers.

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Kimi Raikkonen made an appearance on Top Gear ahead of the 2012 F1 season(Image: Mark Thompson/Getty Images)

Former Top Gear executive producer Andy Wilman has revealed the story of his behind-the-scenes run-in with Kimi Raikkonen ahead of the 2007 world champion’s return to Formula One with Lotus.

The incident in question took place between Raikkonen’s Ferrari exit at the end of the 2009 season and his return to the sport in 2012. The legendary Finn spent his time away from F1 competing in the World Rally Championship and made a couple of appearances in the NASCAR Truck Series.

Before returning to F1 with Lotus, Raikkonen appeared on Top Gear, partaking in an interview with Jeremy Clarkson before laying down a lap in the reasonably priced car. Asked about his comeback, the Finn replied in textbook fashion: “Very normal. Cars are the same, people are the same. Same story.”

However, when the time came to set his laps, the appearance went downhill. Recounting the story on the Midweek F1 podcast, Wilman explained: “Raikkonen came on the show. So everyone is doing their lap. His was a wet day. And we were like, ‘Oh, he’s not going to do it’. He’s like, ‘Okay’. But he’ll give it some, because it’s Kimi.

“It was when he came back with Lotus. And we were all like, ‘Oh, we are not worthy. You’re here. You’re here!’ I went down to see the guy with the timer, Nick Dalton, who had the watch out. I was like, ‘How’s he doing? How’s he doing?’ He went, ‘Not great.’

“So he goes into his motorhome, and he’s like, ‘I’ve done enough laps now’. He wasn’t unfriendly, but he’s just like, ‘It’s a rainy day’. I go into the motorhome after him. He’s in the, like, Lazy Boy chair, and it’s warm, and he’s fully sort of stretched out, like Joey from Friends.

“I went, ‘Kimi, you know, it’s drying out now. I can’t tell you your time, but it wasn’t brilliant. We know you could go faster.’ And he went, ‘No, I can’t’. And we were like, ‘No, Kimi, it really is dry now’, and I said, ‘If you look out of the window, you’ll see it’s definitely getting drier’.

“And he, with hugely bad grace, upped himself to the window, and he went, ‘No, it isn’t’. I lost it with him a bit, and bollocked him, like, ‘There’s so many people here waiting to see you make a comeback, and that’ll be on you if you don’t do something!’

“Then I thought, ‘What have I done?’ And then he got out, and he went and did a couple more laps and went a bit faster. But that was the day I told Kimi off.”

The year 2026 was supposed to be the great equalizer in Formula 1. New engines, revised regulations, and a clean slate designed to level the playing field and bring the grid closer together. But beneath the polished press releases and the optimistic talk of a new era, a secret war has been raging behind closed factory doors—a war that may have already decided the championship before a single wheel turns.

Insiders and technical analysts are uncovering a revelation that threatens to shatter the competitive balance of the sport. It isn’t about aerodynamics or driver skill; it is about a loophole so clever, so technically gray, that it borders on unfair. Mercedes and Red Bull have reportedly discovered a “thermal trick” that bends the laws of physics and the FIA rulebook, but only one of them has perfected it. The result? A staggering potential advantage of 0.4 seconds per lap. In a sport measured in thousandths, that is not just a gap; it is an eternity.

The Physics-Bending Loophole Explained

At the heart of this controversy is the new regulation capping the compression ratio of the 2026 power units. The rule was intended to limit power output and keep costs down. However, engineers at the top teams found a blind spot in the regulations: natural thermal expansion.

The concept is deviously simple yet incredibly difficult to execute. By utilizing specific materials that expand under the extreme heat of racing conditions, teams can design an engine that passes the strict, static measurements during cold scrutineering checks but physically transforms once it hits the track. As the metal heats and expands under stress, the compression ratio effectively increases, unlocking power levels that technically shouldn’t be possible.

It is “domination dressed as engineering,” a classic Formula 1 move of finding the gray area and setting up camp there before the regulators even realize it exists. But knowing about the loophole and exploiting it are two very different things.

Mercedes: The Return of the Kings?

For Mercedes, the whispers from Brackley are reminiscent of a terrifyingly familiar era. Team Principal Toto Wolff has reportedly admitted that the atmosphere at the factory feels like 2013—the winter before the Silver Arrows unleashed eight consecutive years of crushing dominance.

Mercedes hasn’t just found the loophole; they have reportedly built their entire 2026 philosophy around it. Their mastery of hybrid technology, honed over a decade of success, has allowed them to understand exactly how materials behave under thermal stress. They have engineered components that are legal in the garage but lethal on the straightaways.

This confidence is a warning shot to the rest of the grid. If Mercedes has indeed cracked this code 18 months ahead of the competition, they aren’t just securing their own future; they are securing the future of their customer teams as well. McLaren, the reported reigning Constructors’ Champions of 2024 and 2025 in this unfolding narrative, along with Williams and Alpine, will all bolt this potentially dominant power unit into their chassis. It creates a terrifying prospect for their rivals: a grid where four out of ten teams possess a distinct mechanical advantage.

Red Bull’s Identity Crisis

While confidence flows at Mercedes, the mood at Milton Keynes is reportedly darkening. Red Bull Racing, the juggernaut of the ground-effect era, is facing a perfect storm of technical and organizational challenges.

The team’s transition to becoming an independent engine manufacturer with the Red Bull Ford powertrains project was always a gamble. Now, reports suggest that gamble is faltering. Trying to replicate the thermal expansion trick without the decades of specific manufacturing data that Mercedes possesses has left them months behind schedule.

But the problems aren’t just mechanical; they are cultural. The paddock is buzzing with news of a seismic shift in leadership: Helmut Marko, the ruthless architect of the Red Bull driver program, is gone. In his place, the team has promoted rookie Isack Hadjar to the second seat, a bold but risky move to partner with Max Verstappen.

Speaking of Verstappen, the three-time champion has been publicly honest—a trait that usually signals concern. He has admitted that Red Bull’s dominance is at risk. With performance clauses in his contract, the failure of the 2026 engine project could do the unthinkable: force the greatest driver of his generation to walk away from the team he built.

Ferrari’s All-In Gamble

In Maranello, the strategy is one of high-stakes sacrifice. Ferrari reportedly halted development on their 2025 car early, effectively writing off an entire season to pour every resource into the 2026 reset. It is a strategy born of desperation and ambition.

The Scuderia has assembled a super-team for this new era: Charles Leclerc, the prince of Maranello, and Lewis Hamilton, the seven-time champion chasing immortality. Hamilton didn’t leave Mercedes for a midfield scrap; he moved for a car capable of delivering his record-breaking eighth title.

If the Mercedes engine turns out to be the class of the field, Ferrari’s decision to build their own power unit conservatively could be catastrophic. However, if the FIA steps in and bans the thermal trick—a scenario that is entirely plausible—Ferrari’s traditional approach could suddenly make them the only reliable powerhouse on the grid. It is a binary outcome: glory or disaster.

The Dark Horse: Aston Martin

Amidst the panic and posturing of the “Big Three,” Aston Martin sits quietly in the shadows. They possess a trifecta that cannot be ignored: a works partnership with Honda (the current dominant engine supplier), the genius of Adrian Newey designing the chassis, and the relentless experience of Fernando Alonso.

Honda has a history of arriving late but arriving with overwhelming force. If they deliver a competitive engine and Newey works his aerodynamic magic, Aston Martin could be the shock of the season, capitalizing on the chaos while the giants fight over loopholes.

The Verdict

The 2026 season is shaping up to be less about racing and more about survival. If the reports of the thermal loophole are true, we are looking at three potential futures. In one, Mercedes steamrolls the competition, handing George Russell or a McLaren driver the title. In another, the FIA intervenes with a mid-season technical directive, throwing the championship into chaos and courtrooms. Or, perhaps, Red Bull finds a way to strike back against the odds.

One thing is certain: the race for the 2026 championship has already begun, and the winner might just be the team with the best lawyers and the cleverest metallurgists, not the fastest driver.

For decades, Formula 1 operated on a brutal yet beautifully simple meritocracy: the stopwatch never lied. In this high-octane world, if you were fast, you were safe. If you were slow, you were out. It didn’t matter if you had the charisma of a rock star or the personality of a wet cardboard box; if you could shave a tenth of a second off a lap time, you had a job. But as we settle into the reality of modern motorsport, that ancient rulebook hasn’t just been rewritten—it has been shredded, burned, and replaced by an algorithm.

In the 2024 paddock, speed is rapidly becoming a secondary metric. We are witnessing a seismic shift where a driver’s digital footprint, follower count, and “meme-ability” are becoming just as powerful as their throttle pedal. Social media has transformed from a simple fan engagement tool into a career-defining currency. But as many drivers are finding out, this currency has a volatile exchange rate. It can buy you a seat, certainly, but the tax it levies on mental health and focus can cost you everything else.

The $35 Million Smile: The Ricciardo Effect

To understand this new hierarchy, one needs to look no further than the curious case of Daniel Ricciardo. By traditional racing metrics, his stint at McLaren was an objective failure. He was consistently outpaced by his teammate, struggled to adapt to the car, and was eventually paid millions of dollars just to leave the team early. In the “old world” of Formula 1, such a performance would have been a career-ending curtain call. He would have been thanked for his service and quietly ushered out the exit door.

Yet, in 2024, Ricciardo didn’t just stay on the grid; he became the face of a rebranded team. Why? Because in the modern era, speed is only 50% of a driver’s value. Reports suggest that the massive Visa and Cash App title sponsorship for the RB team—a deal worth a staggering $35 million annually—was heavily influenced by one singular factor: the marketability of Daniel Ricciardo. His infectious smile, his Drive to Survive stardom, and his army of 9 million Instagram followers were worth more to the team’s bottom line than a few tenths of a second on the track. This is the new reality: a driver’s ability to sell a credit card is now arguably as valuable as their ability to overtake.

The Hamilton Empire: A Global Media Channel

While Ricciardo represents the survival aspect of this new economy, Lewis Hamilton represents its absolute dominance. Hamilton is the undisputed king of the digital metric. With over 40 million followers on Instagram alone, his digital reach is double that of any other driver on the grid. He has transcended the sport to become a cultural icon.

Analysts estimate that a single sponsored post from Lewis Hamilton can carry a media value of anywhere between $120,000 to over $170,000. When brands like Tommy Hilfiger or IWC partner with him, they aren’t just sponsoring a racing driver; they are buying airtime on a global media channel. This immense distribution network allows Hamilton to command a salary that reflects not just his record-breaking seven world titles, but his status as a one-man marketing machine.

For midfield teams, this digital currency is a lifeline. When teams like Williams or Haas scout for talent, they are no longer just looking at lap times in F2. They are asking, “What budget or attention do you bring?” The “Netflix Effect” has turned drivers into characters, and teams know that signing a personality guarantees screen time. Screen time guarantees sponsor satisfaction, and sponsor satisfaction pays the electricity bills. In this era, being boring is a financial risk. You can be fast, but if you are invisible online, you are leaving millions of dollars on the table.

The Human Cost: Mental Health in the Digital Age

However, there is a dark side to this digital revolution. While social media builds careers, it simultaneously erodes the human being behind the helmet. We often forget that many of these gladiators are merely men in their early 20s, growing up under a level of scrutiny that previous generations of champions never had to imagine.

Lando Norris has been one of the most vocal figures regarding this harsh reality. On the surface, Lando is the prototype of the modern digital driver: he streams on Twitch, founded his own gaming and lifestyle brand, Quadrant, and memes with the best of them. But peel back the layers, and the cost is evident. Norris has openly admitted to spirals of self-doubt triggered by social media. In his early seasons, he confessed to reading every comment, letting the “armchair experts” dictate his self-worth.

“I was struggling a lot with my mental health,” Norris told interviewers, “feeling like I didn’t know if I was good enough.” The pressure is relentless. Every lockup, every bad strategy call, and every frustrated radio message is clipped, captioned, and dissected by millions within seconds.

The incident with Nicholas Latifi in Abu Dhabi 2021 remains the darkest example of this toxicity. A simple racing error—a crash that could happen to anyone—led to death threats, forced security details for his family, and a necessary retreat from the public eye. This is the paradox modern drivers face: they must be online to satisfy sponsors and build their brand, but being online exposes them to a toxicity that can directly impact their performance. It is a tightrope walk where one slip doesn’t just mean hitting a wall on the track; it means hitting a wall of public abuse.

Managed Authenticity: The Future of the Sport

So, how does the sport respond? We are entering an era of “managed authenticity.” Ten years ago, Kimi Räikkönen could just be Kimi—blunt, rude, or silent—and fans loved him for it. Today, that lack of engagement is a harder sell. Teams are now hiring digital strategists who sit in briefings alongside race engineers. They are scripting TikToks and managing viral challenges. Drivers are becoming content creators first, and athletes second, for at least 30% of their week.

Even the governing body, the FIA, is tightening the leash. New guidelines look to impose stricter penalties on driver conduct, creating a sanitized version of the sport where swearing in a press conference—something legends like James Hunt would have done over breakfast—can land a driver like Max Verstappen with community service. The message is clear: Be famous, but be safe. Be loud, but don’t say the wrong thing.

As we look to the future, to the young talents like Kimi Antonelli and Oliver Bearman joining the grid, we are looking at the first generation of true digital natives. These kids haven’t just learned how to race karts; they’ve learned how to manage a community. The driver of the future must be a hybrid. They need the raw speed of a Verstappen, the marketing savvy of a Hamilton, and the mental resilience to filter out the noise of millions.

Social media hasn’t just changed the coverage of Formula 1; it has fundamentally changed the job description. Drivers are no longer just pilots; they are influencers, brand ambassadors, and content machines. In this high-speed data economy, a “like” might not be as fast as a lap time, but it is becoming just as valuable.

Sky Sports F1 commentator David Croft has opened up about his journey to becoming the voice of Formula 1, revealing he considered quitting just three races into his first season in 2005

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Sky Sports F1 lead commentator David Croft(Image: Sky Sports)

Formula 1 has transformed dramatically in recent years. Official figures released earlier this month reveal the sport now boasts 827 million fans globally, with 52 million based in the United States alone. The American market, once a challenge for F1 to penetrate, has seen remarkable growth, evidenced by the three races now held annually across the US.

The Las Vegas Grand Prix, despite ongoing teething problems in its third year, has emerged as the sport’s modern flagship event. Fittingly, the man who has become the modern ‘voice of F1’ was first approached about the role in one of Sin City’s notorious bars.

“A friend of mine, who happened to be the producer of 5 Live Formula 1, suggested that I might make a good F1 commentator. I thought he was drunk, to be fair,” David Croft recalled with a laugh. Known globally as ‘Crofty’, he has fronted Sky Sports F1’s commentary coverage since the broadcaster secured the rights for the 2012 season.

However, his F1 commentary career actually spans two decades, having started in 2005 with BBC Radio. Croft initially dismissed his potentially intoxicated mate’s suggestion, but when the proposal was raised again the next morning with clearer, albeit slightly hungover heads, the notion took hold.

Croft revealed: “He repeated it the next day and said that I should audition. I did, and passed the audition. I had to make up a lap off the top of my head. I think it was a first lap at Monza, I had to imagine that I was commentating on this lap.

“It took me back to when I was younger, when I used to pretend to be a sports commentator quite a lot because this is the job I always wanted to do. I’d be there with my Scalextric set pretending I was Murray Walker. ‘Sensational, off he goes’, and all that.”

He secured a one-year contract to commentate on the 2005 season, but wasn’t immediately convinced that it was the right career move for him. Croft, previously recognised for his darts commentary and having covered a World Cup and a Summer Olympic Games for radio, confessed he felt out of his depth at times when he first transitioned to F1 work.

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David Croft was part of Sky’s original cast of F1 presenting team in 2012

He admitted: “Honestly, about three races in, I thought, ‘I don’t really know enough here, even though I’ve done as much research as I can, I need to know a lot more’. There were struggles in that first year. Did I belong here? Was this a good fit? Am I enjoying it? Most of the time I was, but there were a few struggles.

“Then I got a contract for a second year and life became a lot nicer then. By the third, fourth year in Formula 1, you really feel like you started to belong a bit by that stage. When Sky came and got the rights and said, ‘We’d like you to be our commentator’, that was a complete no-brainer for me, because Sky do sport brilliantly. It’s been brilliant to be a part of it, it really has.”

The explosion in F1’s popularity over recent years has thrust those regularly appearing on our screens into the spotlight – including Croft himself. These days, he’s frequently in front of the camera rather than simply providing voice-over commentary, which means he’s recognised far more when he’s out and about. Whilst some might find that intrusive, Croft maintains: “It’s quite lovely.”

He shared an anecdote: “I took my stepdaughter to see Tate McRae this year and she wore a Lando Norris top, because she’s a big Lando Norris fan – they share the same birthday – and Tate McRae and Lando have that association as well. There were a lot of other people actually that night wearing papaya.

“After about an hour of being there, Ava turned to me and said, ‘Do you get recognised like this everywhere you go?’ I said, ‘No, but there’s obviously a lot of Lando fans here’. We were stopping a lot to say hi and to do selfies and that. It’s lovely that F1 fans obviously know me and they know my voice, and I’ve given people enjoyment over the years, which is all I ever want to do.”

In the commentary booth, his regular partner is Martin Brundle, whose expertise and standing in Formula 1 analysis is second to none. The pair have become such a legendary double act that when producers of the Brad Pitt F1 film released this year needed commentators for racing sequences, Lewis Hamilton, who worked as a producer, insisted they were the only choice.

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Crofty with wife Laura, on the red carpet at the European premiere of F1: The Movie, in which he featured as a commentator(Image: Jeff Spicer/Getty Images for Warner Bros. Pictures)

“It’s a privilege for people to invite Martin and myself into their lives and their living rooms,” Croft said. “We try to reward that with something entertaining and enjoyable on a Sunday afternoon. If I’m a household name for people, that’s absolutely incredible. But it’s my job and it’s my passion and I love it. I love talking.”

Sky’s on-screen broadcasting team has evolved in recent years, with former F1 drivers Johnny Herbert and Damon Hill making way for younger and more diverse presenters. However, Croft insists he’s not going anywhere: “I’ll be a part of it for many more years to come – we’re only just getting going.”

In the high-octane world of Formula 1, where egos often roar louder than engines and glory is measured in split seconds, Sir Jack Brabham stood as a monolith of stoicism. He was never a man to mince words, nor was he one to offer praise lightly. To Brabham, the racetrack was not a theater for the vain; it was a brutal proving ground governed by the laws of physics, mechanics, and consequences. In his final years, stripped of the need for diplomacy by age and illness, the three-time World Champion offered a rare glimpse into his mind, revealing the five drivers—and only five—who earned his unreserved admiration.

This revelation is not merely a list of names; it is a manifesto of what racing used to be and, in Brabham’s eyes, what it always should be. It is a critique of the reckless, a dismissal of the purely fast, and a homage to the intelligent.

The Philosophy of the Mechanic-Driver

To understand Brabham’s choices, one must first understand the man himself. He was the only driver in history to win a Formula 1 World Championship in a car of his own construction. This unique dual role gave him a perspective no other driver possessed. He didn’t just drive the machine; he felt its pain. He knew that every unnecessary rev, every aggressive curb strike, and every moment of impatience exacted a toll on the mechanical heart of the vehicle.

Brabham viewed racing as a discipline of restraint. He had little time for drivers who relied solely on bravery or raw speed. To him, brilliance without control was a liability. The drivers he respected were those who treated the sport not as a performance, but as a complex system of risk management and mechanical sympathy.

1. Juan Manuel Fangio: The Benchmark of Thinking

First on Brabham’s list was the legendary Juan Manuel Fangio. For Brabham, Fangio was not a hero to be idolized but a blueprint to be studied. The Argentine maestro represented the absolute pinnacle of “intelligent speed.”

Fangio’s greatness, in Brabham’s estimation, lay in his refusal to engage in unnecessary battles. He did not race every lap as if it were a qualifying session. Instead, Fangio possessed an uncanny ability to read the race as a whole. If a rival was faster in a specific sector, Fangio wouldn’t respond with an emotional burst of speed that might jeopardize the car. He responded with calculation. He knew exactly how much to ask of his machinery and, crucially, when to stop asking. In an era where engines were fragile and tires were temperamental, Fangio’s mechanical sympathy was a weapon more lethal than aggression. He proved that the smartest driver, not the fastest, took home the trophy.

2. Stirling Moss: The Purity of Racing

Perhaps the most surprising inclusion for casual fans, given his lack of a World Championship title, is Stirling Moss. Yet, for Brabham, Moss was the embodiment of racing honesty.

Brabham admired Moss because he could extract world-class speed from inferior equipment without crossing the line into recklessness. Moss drove on the razor’s edge, yet he never seemed to abuse the car. There was a sensitivity to his inputs—a conversation between man and machine—that Brabham, as an engineer, valued deeply. Furthermore, Moss’s legendary sense of fair play resonated with Brabham’s moral compass. Moss famously chose integrity over advantage, proving that respect within the paddock was worth more than applause from the grandstands. To Brabham, Moss demonstrated that you didn’t need a title to be a benchmark of greatness; you needed skill, adaptability, and honor.

3. Jim Clark: The Natural Phenomenon

Jim Clark was an anomaly in Brabham’s world. While Brabham and others built their success on engineering feedback and structural discipline, Clark arrived at victory through pure, effortless intuition.

Brabham admitted he never tried to imitate Clark because Clark’s gift was inimitable. He didn’t wrestle the car; he flowed with it. He didn’t need to analyze the physics of grip because he could feel it instinctively. What impressed Brabham most was Clark’s ability to maintain blistering speeds without destroying the car—a feat that usually required intense conscious effort, but for Clark, seemed like second nature. He was a “natural harmony” in a chaotic sport. Brabham respected Clark because he proved there was another path to the top: one where instinct, when perfectly refined, could match the rigorous calculation of the engineer.

4. Jackie Stewart: The Leader of Evolution

Jackie Stewart made the list not just for his driving, but for his mind. Stewart brought a clarity to Formula 1 that transformed the sport. He understood that talent, risk, and responsibility were inextricably linked.

In the deadly eras of the 60s and 70s, Stewart dared to question the acceptance of danger. He didn’t equate bravery with a willingness to die. Brabham saw a kindred spirit in Stewart’s “intelligent restraint.” Stewart could dominate a race without looking like he was trying, conserving his car and choosing his moments to strike with surgical precision. But beyond the track, Stewart’s advocacy for safety impressed Brabham deeply. It showed a leader who understood that a driver’s life wasn’t expendable. Stewart proved that intelligence didn’t slow racing down; it made it sustainable, allowing true masters to survive and thrive.

5. Nelson Piquet: The Modern Reflection

The final name, Nelson Piquet, might be seen as the spiritual successor to Brabham himself. Piquet drove for the Brabham team, and in him, Jack saw his own philosophy reflected in a new generation.

Beneath Piquet’s often provocative and outspoken exterior lay a cold, calculating mind. Like Brabham, Piquet was deeply involved in the technical setup of his car. He understood tire behavior, fuel loads, and long-run dynamics better than anyone else on the grid. Piquet didn’t care about winning every race; he cared about the championship. He was willing to finish second or third if it meant bringing the car home and securing points. To Brabham, this wasn’t “boring”—it was genius. It was the ultimate validation that, even as F1 became more commercial and high-tech, the fundamental truth remained: the driver who uses his head before his right foot is the one who wins.

A Legacy of Intellect

Jack Brabham’s list is a powerful reminder that Formula 1 is not merely a contest of reflexes. It is a cerebral game. His admiration was reserved for those who understood limits—of the car, of the track, and of themselves.

He didn’t care for the “glory boys” who drove fast and broke things. He cared for the architects of victory. As we look back on the history of motorsport, Brabham’s final testament teaches us a vital lesson: Speed captures the eye, but intelligence captures the checkered flag. In a world obsessed with the spectacular, Jack Brabham championed the sustainable, the smart, and the precise. And in doing so, he set a standard of professionalism that remains the sport’s highest bar.

When the Formula 1 circus rolls into town, it arrives with the subtlety of a jet engine. The skyline of Las Vegas or the harbor of Monte Carlo transforms into a playground for the ultra-elite, a dazzling spectacle of $20 million cars, billion-dollar yachts, and champagne that costs more than a year’s worth of mortgage payments. To the casual observer, F1 looks like the ultimate money-printing machine. It is, after all, the fastest-growing sport on the planet, with a valuation that has tripled in the last five years to over $30 billion. But peel back the layers of gloss and glamour, and a far uglier picture emerges.

If you look closely at the balance sheets of the cities hosting these races, you won’t see the windfall of prosperity promised by politicians. Instead, you’ll find cracked asphalt on abandoned tracks in Korea, corruption trials in Vietnam, and small business owners in Las Vegas begging for relief funds. We are told that hosting an F1 race is the ultimate status symbol for a global city—a guarantee of tourism, investment, and prestige. But for the vast majority of host cities, Formula 1 is not an investment. It is a sophisticated financial trap designed to extract public tax dollars and funnel them directly into the pockets of a media conglomerate, leaving locals with nothing but debt and tire marks.

The Franchise Extortion Racket

To understand why cities go broke hosting F1, you first have to understand the ruthless business model of Liberty Media, the American owners of the sport. Most major sports operate on a standard franchise model. When a city hosts the Super Bowl, the NFL covers many of the costs, and the city reaps the rewards of the influx of visitors. Formula 1, however, operates more like a “franchise extortion racket.”

Formula 1 does not pay to race in a city; the city pays Formula 1. This is known as the sanctioning fee, a massive check written just for the privilege of the sport showing up. While historic tracks like Silverstone or Monaco pay significantly less due to their legacy status, new venues are squeezed for every penny. Countries like Azerbaijan, Qatar, and Saudi Arabia are reportedly paying upwards of $55 million to $60 million per year just for the rights to host a Grand Prix. These contracts often come with escalator clauses, increasing the price by 5% to 10% annually. Collectively, these fees generate nearly $900 million a year for Liberty Media—pure profit transferred from government treasuries before a single engine even starts.

The Infrastructure Mandate: A Highway to Debt

The sanctioning fee is merely the cover charge to get into the club. Once the contract is signed, cities unlock the second level of the trap: the infrastructure mandate. Liberty Media no longer wants races in the middle of nowhere; they crave “content.” They want cars racing past iconic landmarks, skyscrapers, and casinos. They want street circuits.

Turning a public road into an FIA Grade 1 circuit is one of the most expensive construction projects a city can undertake. You cannot simply close a road and race. F1 cars produce 5G of force in corners and travel at 200 mph; standard city streets would tear the cars apart. Cities must rip up miles of public infrastructure, lay down specialized high-grip asphalt imported from specific quarries, and weld manhole covers shut to prevent the cars’ suction from ripping them out of the ground.

Take the Vietnam Grand Prix disaster. In 2018, Hanoi signed a 10-year deal, spending hundreds of millions building a semi-street circuit. The track was finished, the grandstands were up, and the asphalt was fresh. Then the pandemic hit, and key political backers were arrested on corruption charges. The race was canceled forever. Hanoi was left with a massive concrete “white elephant” in the middle of the city—hundreds of millions of taxpayer dollars evaporated without a single lap ever being raced.

The Economic Lie: The Multiplier Effect

Politicians justify these astronomical costs with one simple argument: “We will make it back in tourism revenue.” They claim that spending $100 million to host the event will generate $500 million in economic impact. This is the “economic multiplier” argument, and it is perhaps the single greatest lie in the sports hosting industry.

In a normal business partnership, if you pay for the venue and staff, you keep the revenue. In Formula 1, the contracts are designed so that the sport keeps almost everything that makes money, while the city keeps almost everything that loses money. F1 keeps 100% of the TV rights, 100% of the lucrative Paddock Club hospitality, 100% of the trackside advertising, and the teams keep the merchandise revenue. The host city is left with general admission ticket sales—often the cheapest seats—and incidental spending like hot dogs and hotel rooms.

However, independent economists have found that the multiplier effect is often zero or negative due to the “crowding out effect.” When a mega-event comes to town, regular tourists stay away to avoid the chaos and price gouging. The city trades its steady stream of normal visitors for a sudden spike of F1 fans who stay at international hotel chains and eat at the track. The profits are wire-transferred to Liberty Media’s headquarters in Colorado, while the local economy gets the noise, traffic, and trash.

Las Vegas: The Jewel that Crushed the Locals

The 2023 Las Vegas Grand Prix was supposed to be the jewel in Liberty Media’s crown. They hyped it as the greatest sporting event on Earth, and for them, it was—generating over $1.2 billion in revenue. But for local business owners, it was a catastrophe.

To build the track, major roads were shut down for months. Massive temporary bridges blocked access to dozens of local businesses. Wade Bowen, a gas station owner near the strip, reported a 50% revenue drop, losing millions because customers literally couldn’t reach his front door. Restaurants reported empty reservation books as regular tourists avoided the city due to $1,000-a-night hotel rates. When the race finally happened, F1 erected screens and covers to ensure no one could watch for free, blocking the view of the city’s own landmarks. It was wealth concentration disguised as economic growth.

The Future of the Circus

Why do cities keep signing up? For developing nations or second-tier cities, hosting F1 is a shortcut to global legitimacy—a concept known as “sportswashing.” For Saudi Arabia or Qatar, $50 million is a cheap marketing expense to rebrand their image. They are buying 60 seconds of drone footage that makes their country look futuristic and clean.

But for democratic cities with real budgets, the math is becoming impossible to justify. Traditional tracks like Hockenheim in Germany have dropped off the calendar because they refuse to bankrupt themselves. In their place, F1 moves toward totalitarian regimes or massive US cities where corporate interests can bulldoze local opposition.

Eventually, economic bubbles burst. Cities will realize the prestige isn’t worth the debt. Residents will sue the races out of existence. Until then, the F1 circus will continue to travel the world, setting up its tents, extracting the gold, and leaving before the locals realize they’ve been pickpocketed. Next time you see a mayor smiling and shaking hands with an F1 CEO, remember: you’re not watching a business deal. You’re watching a city sign its own mortgage papers.

The champagne from McLaren’s dominant 2025 double championship run has barely dried, but Oscar Piastri is already sounding the alarm. In a sport often obsessed with aerodynamic nuances and technical loopholes, the first defining verdict on Formula 1’s impending 2026 revolution didn’t come from a wind tunnel report or a team principal’s press release. It came from the cockpit, and the message was stark: The era of hiding behind superior machinery is about to end.

Speaking to Fox Sports while attending the fourth Ashes Test at the Melbourne Cricket Ground, the Australian ace offered a perspective that was less about optimism and more about a chilling reality check for his rivals. While the paddock buzzes with rumors of horsepower figures, Piastri highlighted a far more volatile variable—the driver’s brain.

The “Cognitive” Trap of 2026

To the casual observer, the 2026 challengers might look like traditional Formula 1 cars. But Piastri warns that this visual familiarity is a “trap.” Beneath the carbon fiber skin, the radical shift in power unit regulations—specifically the massive increase in electrical power and the complexity of its deployment—is set to fundamentally rewrite the job description of a Grand Prix driver.

“The cars will still look like Formula 1,” Piastri noted, “but the power units won’t feel like anything drivers have raced before.”

This isn’t just about managing tire wear or fuel saving anymore. The 2026 regulations introduce a “cognitive” burden that has never existed at this level. Drivers will be forced to make split-second decisions on energy deployment that could decide their entire race. Mismanage the battery, and you are a sitting duck on the straights. Deploy too early, and you have nothing left for defense.

Piastri’s assessment is brutal in its simplicity: “Driver execution may matter more than team momentum.” In recent years, a dominant car could mask small errors. If you missed an apex or had a sloppy exit, the raw performance of the machine could often bail you out. That safety net, Piastri argues, is thinning rapidly.

“If you mismanage the electrical side, the car won’t rescue you,” he stated. “And if you master it, you might extract performance others can’t, even in equal machinery.”

A Threat to Established Hierarchies

This shift threatens to expose the grid in a way we haven’t seen in decades. The “plug-and-play” consistency of the current era creates a hierarchy based largely on engineering excellence. If Red Bull or McLaren builds a rocket ship, their drivers win. But 2026 introduces a variable that engineering cannot fully control: human adaptability under extreme cognitive load.

Piastri suggests that the new rules will ruthlessly separate the instinctive racers from the “complete” drivers who can process complex strategic data while battling wheel-to-wheel. It’s a shift that could see reputations built during stable eras crumble overnight.

“The margin between winning and wasting performance could sit squarely in the cockpit,” he warned. This means we could see wild swings in performance between teammates. If one driver grasps the nuances of the new energy recovery systems and the other relies on old habits, the gap won’t be tenths of a second—it could be devastating.

McLaren’s Dominance: A Double-Edged Sword?

Perhaps the most surprising part of Piastri’s interview was his refusal to bask in the glory of McLaren’s 2025 success. History is littered with teams that dominated the end of one regulation cycle only to arrive late and confused to the next.

“There is no guarantee the team will be at the front when the new rule set lands,” Piastri admitted, undercutting any sense of complacency.

He points out that regulation resets “punish certainty.” Teams that think they have “solved” Formula 1 often fall into the trap of evolution rather than revolution. The danger for McLaren is that their current expertise might not translate to the specific demands of the 2026 power units. While they have been the benchmark for the last 12 months, the reset button hits everyone equally.

“The teams that believe they’ve solved Formula 1 often arrive late to the next version of it,” he cautioned.

The Rise of the “Thinking” Driver

Ultimately, Piastri’s warning frames 2026 as a philosophical battleground. Will the sport favor the raw, instinctive speed demons, or the cerebral, disciplined operators?

The implication is that the definition of a “fast” driver is changing. It’s no longer enough to just be brave on the brakes. The champions of 2026 will be the ones who make the fewest wrong decisions when the system is unstable. They will be the ones who can manage a frantic race while simultaneously playing a high-speed chess match with their battery levels.

For fans, this promises a season of unpredictability and excitement. But for the drivers, it promises exposure. There will be no hiding places. As Piastri succinctly put it, the reset rewards flexibility and punishes assumption.

Heading into a winter of uncertainty, one thing is clear: The machinery will change, but the pressure on the driver is about to reach a breaking point. And if Oscar Piastri is right, the grid is about to find out exactly who is ready for the future—and who is stuck in the past.

In the high-stakes world of Formula 1, the race effectively starts long before the lights go out. As the paddock prepares for the seismic regulatory shifts of 2026, a shadow war has erupted between the sport’s titans. While the headlines have been dominated by rumors of a frighteningly powerful new engine from Mercedes, whisperings from Maranello suggest that Ferrari has quietly developed a counter-strategy that could level the playing field. However, amidst this technical arms race, the F1 community has been grounded by a sobering reminder of the human cost behind the sport, with heartbreaking news emerging from the Red Bull Racing camp.

The Silver Arrow Scare: Mercedes’ Compression Miracle

For weeks, a specter has been haunting the rival team factories: the rumor that Mercedes High Performance Powertrains has found a “magic bullet” for the 2026 engine regulations. The gossip points to a breakthrough in compression ratios—a technical feat that allows their internal combustion engine (ICE) to squeeze significantly more power out of every drop of fuel.

Reports suggest that Mercedes may have found a way to push compression beyond the standard operational limits, potentially entering a gray area of the regulations. The FIA, limited by their ability to test engines only at ambient temperatures, may effectively be unable to police this innovation during dynamic running. The result? A rumored advantage of up to three-tenths of a second per lap purely from engine performance. In a sport where championships are decided by milliseconds, a three-tenth gap is not just an advantage; it is a canyon.

For Ferrari, Red Bull, and Audi, this paints a terrifying picture. If the Silver Arrows start the new era with a dominant power unit—reminiscent of their crushing superiority in 2014—the 2026 season could be over before it begins. But is the Prancing Horse really out of the race?

Ferrari’s “Dirty” Secret: The Battle of the Fuels

While Mercedes focuses on the machine, Ferrari appears to be betting the house on the juice that powers it. The 2026 regulations mandate 100% sustainable fuels, a move that has split the grid into two distinct philosophical camps: the “E-fuel” purists and the “Biofuel” pragmatists.

Most manufacturers, including the Aston Martin-Honda alliance (partnered with Aramco) and potentially Mercedes (with Petronas), are leaning towards E-fuels. These are synthetic fuels created in a lab using green hydrogen and captured carbon dioxide. They are the “cleanest” vision of the future—scientific, precise, and totally synthetic.

Ferrari and their long-time partner Shell, however, have reportedly chosen a different path: Biofuels. Derived from organic waste, biomass, and municipal refuse, these fuels are chemically different. While E-fuels are structurally conservative, Biofuels contain complex, naturally occurring molecules that, according to current chemical understanding, burn faster and possess a higher octane rating.

This is Ferrari’s secret weapon. If the rumors are true, Shell’s biofuel blend could offer superior combustion properties compared to the synthetic E-fuels of their rivals. It’s a classic case of chemistry vs. engineering. Even if the Mercedes engine block is technically superior, it might be hamstrung by a less explosive fuel. Ferrari’s gamble is that their “dirty” fuel (derived from waste) will provide the raw explosive kick needed to negate Mercedes’ mechanical efficiency. It is a fascinating divergence in strategy that proves the 2026 title fight won’t just be won on the asphalt, but in the laboratories.

Heartbreak in the Garage: The Human Side of Red Bull

While the manufacturers play 4D chess with engines and fuel, the reigning champions at Red Bull are facing a much more personal battle. For months, speculation has swirled regarding the future of Gianpiero “GP” Lambiase, Max Verstappen’s race engineer and close confidant.

Rumors suggested GP was looking to step back from trackside duties, a move that puzzled many given the duo’s immense success. Tragically, the reason has now been confirmed, and it puts all trivial racing matters into perspective. Lambiase’s wife, Eloise, recently confirmed via social media that she has been battling breast cancer.

The revelation casts a poignant light on the end of the 2024 season. The emotional strain on Lambiase, torn between the relentless global travel schedule of F1 and the need to be present for his family during a health crisis, is unimaginable. It explains the raw emotion seen in Abu Dhabi and clarifies why a step back to a factory role—or a move to a UK-based team like Aston Martin—might be on the cards.

This news serves as a stark reminder that the voices we hear on the radio are real people dealing with real life. Whether GP stays at Red Bull in a senior capacity or moves elsewhere to reduce travel, the entire F1 community stands with the Lambiase family. It also raises questions about Max Verstappen’s future; with his “rock” potentially leaving the pit wall, the stability of the Verstappen camp faces its biggest test yet.

The Calendar Shuffle: Classics Return?

Away from the technical and personal dramas, the F1 map is also being redrawn. Confirmation has finally landed that the Spanish Grand Prix will indeed move to a new street circuit in Madrid, with technical delegates satisfied with the progress. However, this shift has reignited hope for lovers of traditional circuits.

With Barcelona fighting to stay relevant and Madrid taking the spotlight, rumors are intensifying that Istanbul Park—the beloved Turkish circuit—is in advanced negotiations for a return. Famous for its terrifying Turn 8 and wide, overtaking-friendly layout, Istanbul is a stark contrast to the tight street tracks that have flooded the calendar recently.

For fans tired of “processional” races around concrete walls, the return of a proper, high-speed circuit where drivers can actually race would be a breath of fresh air. Along with the resurfacing of Suzuka, there is a clear push to ensure the 2026 cars have tracks worthy of their performance.

A Season of Unknowns

As we look toward the future, the narrative of Formula 1 is more complex than ever. We have a looming technical war that pits Mercedes’ engineering might against Ferrari’s chemical ingenuity. We have a calendar in flux, balancing the glamour of Madrid with the grit of Istanbul. And at the heart of it all, we have the human stories—the joy of Fernando Alonso expecting a child, and the resilience of the Lambiase family in the face of illness.

2026 is often discussed in terms of horsepower and aerodynamics, but as recent days have shown, the sport is defined by its unpredictability. Whether it’s a secret fuel blend or a personal life change, the only certainty in Formula 1 is that everything can change in the blink of an eye. The engines are firing up, but the drama has already begun.

“OH, GIVE OVER!”  Lorrɑine Kelly UNLEASHES on Thomɑs Skinner Over His ‘BBC Lɑwsuit’ Clɑim

Lorraine Kelly has publicly mocked former Apprentice contestant Thomas Skinner, questioning his decision to pursue legal action against the BBC.

The ITV daytime host, took aim at the reality TV star during Thursday’s episode of her programme, describing his reported lawsuit as baffling.

Speaking on air, the 66-year-old appeared incredulous as she discussed Skinner’s claims, remarking: “He’s suing the BBC. It seems to be a trend these days, everybody is doing it.”

Ms Kelly went on to quiz entertainment journalist Lucie Cave about Skinner’s motivations, adding: “What do you think he wants out of this? I don’t really get it.”

ITV Lorraine: Lorraine Kelly questioned Mr Skinner’s decision to sue the BBC

 | ITVThe presenter concluded her remarks with a pointed comparison, rolling her eyes as she declared: “He’s up there with Donald Trump, who is also suing the BBC.”

Her comments came after reports emerged that Mr Skinner, 34, is preparing legal action against the broadcaster over his early exit from Strictly Come Dancing.

The businessman alleges the show’s public voting system was deliberately manipulated to ensure his swift elimination from the competition.

Mr Skinner, who rose to fame on The Apprentice with his catchphrase “Bosh”, claims he has obtained proof that his public vote tally was suppressed.

Thomas Skinner was the first to be eliminated from BBC Strictly | BBC

A source told The Sun: “Thomas is adamant he got a larger share of the public vote and believes he has the evidence to prove it. He is determined to see it through, but there’s no way the BBC will take this sensational claim lying down.”

Mr Skinner reportedly believes negative press coverage surrounding his personal life influenced the alleged interference.

His Strictly stint was controversial from the outset, with some viewers objecting to his casting due to his association with US Vice President JD Vance.

The pair were pictured together at a barbecue after Vance reached out to Skinner to praise his motivational social media content.

Thomas Skinner regularly posts updates of his family on social media | INSTAGRAM

Mr Skinner later revealed he received death threats following the meeting in October, just weeks before the series began.

Further controversy followed when he stormed out of Strictly’s press launch at Elstree Studios, seizing a journalist’s phone after spotting a question about his private life.

Days later, the businessman admitted to being unfaithful to his wife Sinead shortly after their wedding.

The couple share three children.

Mr Skinner and professional partner Amy Dowden were the first pair eliminated from the 2025 series after landing in the bottom two dance-off.

They had amassed just 29 judges’ points across the opening fortnight, one fewer than rivals Chris Robshaw and Nadiya Bychkova.

The BBC does not release individual public vote figures, but Mr Skinner remains convinced his support was deliberately understated.

Sources claim he has since clashed with BBC executives and plans to boycott the Strictly final.

Thomas Skinner with professional dancer partner, Amy Dowden

 | BBC
An insider said: “He’s convinced the BBC was hell-bent on getting him out as soon as possible — no matter how many of his fans got behind him.”

Reports suggest his absence is officially due to a prior commitment, while Ms Dowden will return for the finale.

The BBC has strongly denied the allegations, with a spokesperson telling the Mirror: “Strictly Come Dancing’s public vote is robust and independently overseen and verified to ensure complete accuracy.”

Corporation sources also confirmed no formal legal complaint has been received.

The broadcaster’s response mirrors its stance on a separate lawsuit brought by Donald Trump over a Panorama episode featuring his speech ahead of the 6 January 2021 US Capitol riot.

BBC insiders have indicated the corporation would mount a robust defense should any formal proceedings be launched.