WW2 veteran labels victory over Nazis ‘waste of time’ and claims migrant crisis proves ‘UK has gone right downhill’

World War Two veteran Alex Penstone says Britain is ‘worse than it was when he fought for it’ | 

Mervyn Kersh is a D-Day veteran who also witnessed the horrors of the newly-liberated Bergen-Belsen concentration camp in 1945

A World War Two veteran has labelled Britain’s victory against the Nazis a “waste of time” and warned the UK has “gone downhill”.

Mervyn Kersh, 101, a Jewish D-Day veteran who witnessed the liberation of Bergen-Belsen concentration camp in 1945, voiced his frustrations about modern Britain.

 

He singled out the issue of immigration of immigration, with Channel crossings in 2025 so far exceeding 41,000.

Mr Kersh, who was once lauded for his efforts by ex-Prime Minister Boris Johnson, told The Daily Mail: “I think it [the war] was a waste of time, because the benefits we got from it, the wartime camaraderie and everyone, almost everybody, mucked in [with] whatever they could do.

“Whatever [way] they could help somebody else they did. That wasn’t just in the army. You don’t get that now, no.”

He added: “This country has gone right downhill.

“I know the population is changing. Some are leaving, and then others are coming who have no understanding or knowledge of what this country was like, not only just its history, but it’s morals.”

Mr Kersh, who now lives alone following the death of his wife Betty in 2018, insisted he has “no objection” with genuine asylum seekers but did go on to highlight concerns about migrant crossings.

Mr Kersh, who now lives alone following the death of his wife Betty in 2018, insisted he has “no objection” with genuine asylum seekers but did go on to highlight concerns about migrant crossings

 

However, Mr Kersh was also asked how Britain’s recent leaders compare to the likes of Sir Winston Churchill and Margaret Thatcher.

The 101-year-old added: “They didn’t just try to keep the job to the next day, next session, a bit of sparring with the opposition, and then come and have a drink job.”

Mr Kersh, who was born in Brixton in 1924, signed up to join the Ordnance Corps in 1943.

After undergoing training in Scotland, Mr Kersh was ready to follow the main D-Day invasion force into Normandy.

The veteran landed on Gold Beach on the Normandy coast

The veteran landed on Gold Beach on the Normandy coast.

Speaking about the experience previously, Mr Kersh said: “The landings was the biggest experience, the biggest and most emotional one.

“Landing on the coast with the intention of destroying the Germans.

“They were firing at the biggest ships out at sea and the British were firing above our heads at the Germans.

Mr Kersh was later stationed near Bergen-Belsen when the camp was liberated by British troops in April 1945

 | PA

“French women, children and old men greeted us with flowers, wine and kisses.

“I did not take the wine in case it was poisoned but I did take the flowers and the kisses. I was 19 at the time. I’m a bit older now.”

Mr Kersh was later stationed near Bergen-Belsen when the camp was liberated by British troops in April 1945.

However, Mr Kersh’s comments come shortly after ex-Royal Navy serviceman Alec Penstone made similar claims ahead of Remembrance Sunday.

British army soldiers depart for Normandy as reinforcements during Operation Overlord in 1944 | Getty

“My message is, I can see in my mind’s eye the rows and rows of white stones of all the hundreds of my friends and everybody else that gave their lives for what?” he said.

“The country of today. No, I’m sorry, the sacrifice wasn’t worth the result that it is now.”

Mr Penstone continued: “What we fought for, and what we fought for, was our freedom. We find that even now it’s downright worse than when I fought for it.”

The UK lost 384,000 soldiers in combat during the Second World War.

A further 70,000 British civilians were killed, including 40,000 between September 1940 and May 1941.

Victoria Beckham and David Beckham appeared to send a pointed and unmistakable message to their estranged son Brooklyn Beckham on Boxing Day, as the Beckham family feud showed no sign of easing over Christmas.

The famous couple shared a video of themselves dancing together at their Cotswolds home to Guilty by Barbra Streisand and Barry Gibb — a song whose lyrics, “We’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” immediately caught the attention of fans and critics alike. For many, it felt far from coincidental.

The post landed just days after reports claimed Brooklyn wants his parents to apologise to him and his wife, Nicola Peltz, following weeks of tension that have spilled publicly across social media. But the mood from David and Victoria’s festive post suggested reconciliation may not be imminent.

Despite Brooklyn remaining in the US with Nicola and her family, Victoria and David shared a series of smiling family moments from Christmas, presenting a united front with their other children. One image showed David tenderly embracing daughter Harper, while another featured Victoria posing with son Cruz. The couple were also joined by close family members, including Victoria’s parents Jackie and Anthony and David’s mother Sandra.

Victoria captioned the now-viral dancing clip with playful confidence, writing that she and David were giving their “very best Barry and Barbra” on Christmas Day, signing off with kisses from them both.

Meanwhile, across the Atlantic, Brooklyn marked the festive period in a very different way. He spent Christmas in the US with Nicola’s family, sharing posts that underlined where his loyalties currently lie. On Christmas Eve, he described Nicola as “my everything” in a loved-up Instagram post — a move many saw as another subtle but deliberate message to his parents after blocking them on the platform.

Brooklyn also shared glimpses of his Christmas Day activities, including playing tennis with American pro Reilly Opelka and Nicola’s brother Bradley, basking in the Californian sunshine while his family gathered back in the UK.

The rift appears deeper than ever. Earlier this week, Cruz Beckham revealed that Brooklyn had blocked the entire family on Instagram, including his parents and even his younger sister Harper. Cruz insisted that David and Victoria would never unfollow their son, explaining instead that they all woke up to find themselves blocked.

Sources close to the situation have claimed Brooklyn believes his parents owe him and Nicola an apology, with tensions reportedly fuelled by what was described as a sustained period of negative briefings aimed at his wife. According to those claims, repairing the relationship would require acknowledgment of the pain caused — something that, so far, has not happened.

While David and Victoria continue to put on a brave and united front at home, those close to the family say the ongoing feud has taken a particular emotional toll on the grandparents, who are said to be heartbroken at the prospect of not seeing Brooklyn over Christmas.

As the festive season draws to a close, the dancing video — light-hearted on the surface — has come to symbolise something far heavier: a family stalemate, played out to a soundtrack that leaves little room for compromise.

A Tectonic Shift in the Paddock

As the dust settled on the 2025 Formula 1 season in Abu Dhabi, the paddock’s collective gaze immediately shifted toward the horizon. The 2026 regulation overhaul was poised to be the most significant transformation the sport had seen in over a decade—a reset button designed to level the playing field, attract new manufacturers like Audi, and foster a new era of competitive balance. But just days after the champagne dried on McLaren’s championship celebrations, a bombshell report from the German media shattered the offseason calm.

By mid-December 2025, what began as a rumor had metastasized into a full-blown crisis. Reports emerged that Mercedes and Red Bull, two of the sport’s most dominant forces, had independently discovered a “magic bullet”—a technical loophole in the 2026 engine regulations that would allow them to bypass the strict new limits on compression ratios. The implications were immediate and terrifying for their rivals: a built-in performance advantage that could render the 2026 championship fight over before the cars even arrived in Melbourne.

The controversy centers on a piece of engineering that walks the razor-thin line between rule-breaking and genius interpretation. Following a frantic joint letter from Ferrari, Honda, and Audi demanding clarification, the FIA finally broke its silence on December 19th. Their verdict? The trick is legal. The governing body’s confirmation sent shockwaves through the sport, effectively blessing a mechanism that could hand half the grid a decisive 10 to 15 horsepower advantage.

The “Ambient Temperature” Loophole

To understand the magnitude of this controversy, one must first look at the rulebook. The 2026 power unit regulations were crafted with a specific philosophy: simplify the technology to reduce costs and encourage new entrants. A key pillar of this strategy was the reduction of the engine’s geometric compression ratio. The limit was dropped from the previous 18:1 down to 16:1. This reduction was intended to lower the barrier to entry for newcomers like Audi and the Ford-Red Bull partnership, ensuring they wouldn’t be crushed by the decades of combustion expertise held by incumbents like Mercedes and Ferrari.

However, the devil, as always, was in the details—specifically in Article C5.4.3 of the technical regulations. The rule mandates that no cylinder may exceed a geometric compression ratio of 16:1. Crucially, it specifies that the compliance measurement must be taken at “ambient temperature.”

It was in those three words that Mercedes and Red Bull found their salvation. Engineers at Brackley and Milton Keynes realized that while the rule dictated the static limit in a cool garage, it said nothing about what happens when the engine is screaming at 12,000 RPM. They exploited the basic laws of physics: thermal expansion.

Materials expand when heated. It is a universal truth of engineering. But Mercedes and Red Bull didn’t just account for this expansion; they weaponized it. They designed specific engine components—likely the pistons and connecting rods—to expand in a precise, calculated manner as the engine temperature climbs from the ambient conditions of the garage to the searing 120°C operating window on the track.

Engineering Genius or Regulatory Betrayal?

The result of this thermal wizardry is a variable compression ratio in all but name. When the FIA scrutineers measure the engine cold in the pit lane, the components sit dutifully within the 16:1 limit. The car is legal. But once the lights go out and the engine heat soars, those components expand, pushing the piston head incrementally closer to the top of the cylinder.

On track, the effective compression ratio creeps back up, approaching the old 18:1 standard. This allows Mercedes and Red Bull to run more aggressive combustion strategies, extracting efficiency and power that was supposed to be legislated out of existence. While their rivals are stuck running genuine 16:1 engines, the “innovators” are effectively racing with a 2025-spec performance ceiling.

For the new manufacturers, this is a nightmare scenario. Audi committed to Formula 1 based on a promise of stability and accessible technology. They, along with Ferrari and Honda, developed their power units according to the spirit of the rules. Now, they face the prospect of starting their maiden campaign with a significant hardware deficit that cannot be easily fixed with a software patch.

The FIA’s Hands Are Tied

The anger from the Ferrari, Honda, and Audi camps is palpable. In their view, this violates the intention of the 2026 reset. It essentially allows the established giants to maintain their hegemony by outspending and out-engineering the restrictions designed to rein them in.

However, the FIA’s ruling on December 19th was clear-cut. The regulations define the test procedure, and that procedure is static. If the engine passes the test at ambient temperature, it is compliant. To rule otherwise would require the FIA to rewrite the regulations retroactively or attempt to police the complex, microscopic behavior of metals under extreme thermal load—a regulatory quagmire they are seemingly unwilling to enter.

This strict adherence to the letter of the law has left the protesting teams with few options. The homologation deadlines are looming, meaning engine designs are being frozen. Redesigning a power unit to incorporate similar thermal expansion properties would take months, if not longer—time that Ferrari and Audi simply do not have before the season opener.

A Grid Divided

The fallout creates a fascinating, if lopsided, dynamic for the upcoming season. With Mercedes supplying McLaren and Williams, and Red Bull powering their sister team, nearly half the grid—12 cars—will likely benefit from this “illegal” engine trick. The other half, powered by Ferrari, Honda, and Audi, could find themselves fighting with one hand tied behind their backs.

Estimates suggest the advantage is worth roughly 10 to 15 horsepower. In the tight world of Formula 1, that translates to three or four-tenths of a second per lap. Over a race distance, that is an eternity. It is the difference between cruising to victory and fighting in the midfield.

There is talk of a “catch-up mechanism” (referenced by some as the ADU mechanism) that might trigger after the first six races, allowing lagging manufacturers extra development freedom to close the gap. But in a sport where momentum is everything, spending the first quarter of the season bleeding points is often a death sentence for championship aspirations.

Silence Speaks Volumes

Perhaps the most telling aspect of this entire saga is the reaction—or lack thereof—from the beneficiaries. Mercedes Team Principal Toto Wolff has been uncharacteristically pessimistic in public, describing his team’s outlook as “glass half empty.” Meanwhile, Red Bull leadership has remained conspicuously silent on the specific issue of compression ratios.

In the shark tank of the F1 paddock, silence is rarely an accident. When accused of bending the rules, teams usually launch rigorous defenses or counter-attacks. The quiet confidence radiating from Brackley and Milton Keynes suggests they know they have secured a checkmate. They haven’t just found a loophole; they have successfully navigated the regulatory storm that followed its discovery.

The Road to Melbourne

As the Formula 1 circus prepares for the dawn of the 2026 era, the narrative has shifted from excitement to suspicion. The active aerodynamics and smaller chassis of the new cars were supposed to be the story. Instead, we are once again talking about pistons, heat, and the grey areas of the rulebook.

Is this “cheating”? By the strict definition of the regulations, no. It is the kind of ruthless, boundary-pushing engineering that has defined the sport for 75 years. It is Colin Chapman finding ground effect; it is Mercedes creating DAS. But for the fans hoping for a wide-open title fight involving new names like Audi, the news is a bitter pill.

When the lights go out in Melbourne, we will finally see the truth. If the Mercedes and Red Bull cars vanish into the distance, powered by engines that defy the spirit of the rules, the 2026 season may be remembered not for the racing, but for the engineering coup that decided the title in a wind tunnel and a dyno room in December 2025. The game has changed, but the players—and their tricks—remain the same.

Adam Peaty and Holly Ramsay emerged as husband and wife from Bath Abbey today, smiling for the cameras as cheers rang out from the crowds — a picture-perfect ending to a wedding that has been anything but peaceful behind the scenes.

The Olympic swimmer, 31, and his 25-year-old bride beamed as they made their grand exit from the historic church, intertwining arms and pausing to acknowledge onlookers before heading off to the lavish Georgian country retreat, Kin House, where celebrations continued.

On the surface, it was a fairytale moment. Yet the ceremony followed weeks of bitter family turmoil that has left Adam’s side of the family deeply fractured and, most painfully, absent.

Proud father Gordon Ramsay was seen lingering outside the Abbey, personally thanking guests as they departed — including close family friends the Beckhams, who led the all-star guest list at the ceremony. But the build-up to the Christmas wedding had been dominated by what insiders have described as a toxic family rift, resulting in Adam’s relatives being frozen out of the celebrations entirely.

Earlier in the day, there were few signs of the storm surrounding the couple as Holly arrived glowing, guided into the Abbey by her father. The bride kept her dress hidden beneath an embroidered lace cloak, revealing only fleeting glimpses of a scalloped skirt and long train as crowds strained to see more.

As she stepped from the car, Holly shared a tender moment with Gordon, planting a kiss on his cheek before he led her through the tightly packed onlookers. Security staff pushed through the crowds to clear a path, with Gordon cheerfully waving and wishing people a “Merry Christmas” amid the chaos.

Bridesmaids followed shortly after, led by Holly’s mother Tana Ramsay and younger sister Tilly, dressed in festive red and green gowns that nodded to the seasonal theme of the day.

Inside, around 200 guests filled the Abbey, including Sir David Beckham and wife Victoria, alongside their children Romeo, Cruz and Harper. The Beckhams and Ramsays have been close for more than two decades, their friendship dating back to the early 2000s when both families spent time living in the US.

Yet even among the A-list support, family tensions lingered in the background. The Beckhams themselves are navigating their own highly publicised rift with eldest son Brooklyn — a reminder that even the most glamorous weddings can’t escape complicated family realities.

By the time Adam and Holly stepped back into the winter daylight as newlyweds, the smiles were wide and the applause loud. But for those watching closely, the joy was tinged with the knowledge that the day’s happiness came at a heavy emotional price.

 

In the high-stakes world of Formula 1, where split-second decisions define careers and relationships are often discarded at the first sign of failure, Lewis Hamilton has just made a move that has left pundits and fans bewildered. After a debut season with Ferrari that can only be described as a catastrophe—zero wins, zero podiums, and a humiliating defeat by teammate Charles Leclerc—the writing was on the wall. The paddock whispered it, the experts demanded it, and the fans expected it: Lewis Hamilton was going to fire his race engineer, Riccardo Adami.

But they were wrong.

Reports emerging from Italy confirm that Hamilton has made his final decision for the 2026 season. He is keeping Adami. The decision, born from a private dinner and a long-term vision, contradicts the visible friction that defined their 2025 campaign. To understand why the seven-time world champion is doubling down on a partnership that seemed broken, we have to look past the angry radio messages and into the heart of what makes Ferrari tick.

The Season of Discontent

By every measurable standard, Lewis Hamilton’s 2025 arrival at Maranello was a disaster. Finishing sixth in the Drivers’ Championship with just 156 points, he languished 86 points behind his teammate, Charles Leclerc. For a man who had never gone a single season without a podium in his 19-year career, the statistic was sobering.

The frustration wasn’t just in the lap times; it was broadcast to the world. The radio exchanges between Hamilton and Adami became a spectator sport in themselves. In Miami, amidst strategy disagreements, Hamilton sarcastically suggested Adami take a “tea break.” In Monaco, a confused Hamilton asked into the void, “Are you upset with me?” only to be met with silence.

Former drivers and pundits were quick to declare the relationship dead on arrival. Robert Doornbos claimed there was “no chemistry,” while Juan Pablo Montoya urged Hamilton to demand a change. Even the respected Martin Brundle noted that Hamilton was “terribly missing” the nuances he shared with his former Mercedes engineer, Peter “Bono” Bonington.

Everyone assumed the axe would fall after Abu Dhabi. Instead, Hamilton and Adami went to dinner.

The Dinner That Changed Everything

According to reports from Italian publication AutoRacer, Hamilton and Adami shared a private meal after the season finale in Abu Dhabi. The meeting was described as “very positive,” a stark contrast to the public spats. It was here that the decision was cemented: Adami would remain the voice in Hamilton’s ear for the critical 2026 regulation reset.

Why would Hamilton keep the man who presided over his worst statistical season? The answer lies in history, institutional knowledge, and a phone call made before Hamilton even wore the red suit.

The Vettel Connection and the “Maranello Fabric”

Riccardo Adami is not just another engineer. He is a survivor and a winner who knows the “Maranello fabric”—the complex web of politics, tradition, and passion that defines Ferrari—better than almost anyone.

His résumé is formidable. He engineered Sebastian Vettel’s miracle victory at Monza in 2008 for Toro Rosso, a win that remains the team’s only triumph. He guided Vettel to 14 victories at Ferrari and helped Carlos Sainz secure four wins. When Hamilton signed with Ferrari, he reportedly called Sebastian Vettel for advice. Vettel’s assessment of Adami was glowing: “He’s a friend… he’s one of those who represents the values of Ferrari.”

Hamilton, an outsider at 40 years old, realized that firing Adami would mean losing his translator to the unique culture of Ferrari. Sainz had credited Adami with introducing him to the “key people” and how the team actually works. In a team where strategy decisions are often centralized and bureaucratic, having an insider who knows where the bodies are buried is invaluable.

The 2026 Reset

The decision is also a strategic bet on the future. The 2025 car, the SF25, was a carryover concept built for Sainz and Leclerc. Hamilton struggled to adapt to a machine that didn’t suit his driving style. However, 2026 brings the biggest regulation change in over a decade—new engines, new aerodynamics, and a completely new philosophy.

Hamilton and Adami are already working on “Project 678,” the internal code for the 2026 challenger. By keeping Adami, Hamilton ensures continuity where it matters most: the development phase.

Ferrari is also bolstering the support around them. Reports indicate the addition of Bayu Hab, a dedicated ERS (Energy Recovery System) engineer, to Hamilton’s side of the garage. This suggests Ferrari is addressing the communication and technical gaps without blowing up the foundation. They are giving Hamilton more support, not a new start.

A Game of Patience

In an era of instant reaction, Hamilton’s choice demonstrates a profound maturity. He understands that the telepathic bond he had with Bono at Mercedes took 12 years to build. Expecting that level of synergy with Adami in 10 months, especially with a non-competitive car, was unrealistic.

“Most of the speculation was BS,” Hamilton said earlier in the season, hinting that the relationship behind closed doors was far stronger than the radio snippets suggested.

Lewis Hamilton is betting that the friction of 2025 was the heat of forging a new weapon, not the sign of a broken tool. He is trusting the man who guided Vettel and Sainz to victory, trusting the advice of his old rival, and trusting that when the lights go out in 2026, the voice in his ear will be the one that leads him to his record-breaking eighth title.

The tea breaks are over. It’s time to work.

The Formula 1 paddock is no stranger to hyperbole, but as we stand on the precipice of the 2026 season, the tension in the air is palpable, heavy, and entirely justified. This isn’t just another year of minor aerodynamic tweaks or tire compound adjustments. We are staring down the barrel of the single most significant technical reset since the turbo-hybrid era began over a decade ago. It is a complete revolution—a “tear up,” as the engineers call it—where every manufacturer is forced to throw out their old playbooks and start from zero.

The stakes? Absolute dominance or catastrophic failure. The battleground? The new 2026 Power Unit regulations. And if the whispers from the factories are to be believed, the war has already been won and lost in the quiet, sterile rooms of dyno test facilities long before a single wheel turns in anger at the Barcelona preseason testing.

The Great Technical Reset

To understand the gravity of the situation, one must first grasp the magnitude of the engineering challenge. The 2026 regulations are not an evolution; they are a hard reset. The complex and expensive MGU-H (Motor Generator Unit – Heat) is gone, lowering the barrier for entry but placing immense pressure on the remaining systems. The power distribution has shifted dramatically. While current cars rely on the internal combustion engine for 80% of their power, the 2026 beasts will demand a 50/50 split. The electric motors must now triple their output, delivering a staggering 350 kW—roughly 470 brake horsepower—instantly.

Add to this the switch to 100% sustainable fuels, and you have an engineering headache of epic proportions. Every major player—Mercedes, Ferrari, Honda, Audi, and the newly formed Red Bull Ford—is betting their reputation on solving this puzzle first. But as details emerge, it is becoming clear that not everyone is starting from the same line.

Mercedes: The Calculated Juggernaut

If there is a favorite heading into this new era, it is undoubtedly Mercedes. The Silver Arrows have positioned themselves as the benchmark, leveraging a combination of foresight and sheer logistical might. Hywel Thomas, the chief of Mercedes High Performance Powertrains, has been characteristically cautious in public, but the timeline tells a different story.

Mercedes began their single-cylinder testing as early as July 2022. By the start of 2023, they had a full V6 engine running on the dyno. This head start is invaluable, but their true ace in the hole is data. In 2026, Mercedes will supply power units to four teams: their own factory squad, McLaren, Williams, and Alpine. This means they will have 16 engines circulating on tracks around the world, generating a tsunami of feedback and reliability data that no other manufacturer can match. While Audi and Honda will rely on data from just two cars each, Mercedes will be drowning in information, allowing them to refine and perfect their package at an accelerated rate.

James Allison, Mercedes’ technical director, has compared the internal atmosphere to 2014—the year Mercedes kicked off a streak of eight consecutive Constructors’ Championships. If that feeling is accurate, the rest of the grid should be terrified.

The “Loophole” Controversy

However, no F1 season is complete without a scandal, and 2026 has already delivered its first major controversy. Reports have surfaced indicating that Mercedes and Red Bull have found a way to exploit a gray area in the regulations regarding thermal expansion.

The rules strictly limit the engine’s compression ratio to 16:1. However, clever engineers have realized that this limit is checked statically at ambient temperatures. By manipulating the materials and thermal properties of the engine components, these teams have reportedly achieved an effective compression ratio closer to 18:1 under race conditions. This “thermal expansion trick” could unlock an additional 10 to 13 horsepower. In a sport where championships are decided by thousandths of a second, that is a massive advantage—potentially worth three to four-tenths of a second per lap.

Ferrari, Audi, and Honda have understandably lodged furious complaints, demanding clarification. But for now, the FIA has ruled the approach legal. It is a classic F1 move: reading what the rules don’t say rather than what they do.

Red Bull’s “Crazy” Gamble

While Mercedes relies on established infrastructure, Red Bull is walking a tightrope. The departure of Christian Horner in mid-2025 marked the end of an era, leaving new CEO and Team Principal Laurent Mekies to steer the ship through what he calls the “craziest challenge in recent Formula 1 history.”

Red Bull’s decision to become an independent engine manufacturer, in partnership with Ford, is audacious. They are building a power unit from scratch, on their own campus in Milton Keynes. The upside is obvious: perfect integration. Red Bull becomes only the second team, after Ferrari, to house chassis and engine design under one roof. This eliminates the communication barriers that often plague customer teams.

Despite the chaos of leadership changes and the sheer scale of the task, the early signs are promising. Max Verstappen has described the new engine as “crisp” and sounding good on the dyno. However, Mekies remains grounded, admitting that the team is currently in the “peak stress moment.” They have poached top talent, including Ben Hodgkinson from Mercedes, but the risk of doing it all in-house remains the biggest gamble on the grid.

Honda’s Dark Horse Potential

Then there is Honda. Their journey has been confusing—announcing a departure in 2020 only to commit fully to Aston Martin in 2023—but do not underestimate them. For the first time, Aston Martin will be a true factory team, receiving exclusive attention from Honda.

Honda’s “secret weapon” is their unique workflow. With headquarters in Japan and the team in the UK, they have established a 24-hour development cycle. Engineers at Silverstone can watch live data from the dynos in Sakura, allowing for continuous progress. Furthermore, the presence of design legend Adrian Newey at Aston Martin adds a layer of formidable expertise. While Honda officials have humbly described their progress as “struggling” due to the new regulations, analysts suspect this may be typical Japanese modesty masking a lethal competitive package.

Audi: The Long Game

Finally, the newcomer. Audi’s entry is the most ambitious project the sport has seen in years, involving a complete takeover of Sauber and the construction of the first F1 powertrain on German soil in a decade. But expectations must be managed. Mattia Binotto, leading the Audi project, has been clear: 2026 is for learning, and 2030 is for winning.

Audi is starting from zero, without the decades of F1 engine heritage that Mercedes or Ferrari possess. While they have the financial might of the Volkswagen Group (fortified by investment from Qatar), money cannot buy time. They are realistic about their position, aiming to be respectable challengers rather than immediate champions.

The Verdict

As the teams prepare to fire up their cars for the first time in Barcelona on January 26th, the truth will finally emerge. The 2026 Engine War isn’t about who spent the most money; it’s about who started the earliest and who made the smartest technical bets when nobody was watching.

Right now, Mercedes appears to hold the high ground. They have the experience, the data, and the head start. But with loopholes being exploited, Red Bull’s wild ambition, and Honda’s silent determination, the hierarchy is far from set in stone. The only certainty is that the status quo has been shattered, and when the lights go out in 2026, we will witness the start of a chaotic, thrilling new era in motorsport history.

In a fiery showdown at the London Assembly, Emma Best launched a scathing attack on Mayor Sadiq Khan, branding him “a disgrace to London” over his alleged backtracking on his promise to oppose the government’s controversial pay-per-mile scheme targeting electric vehicles. The explosive exchange 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓭 sharp divisions and ignited urgent debate on London’s transport future.

 

Best unleashed her fury during Mayor’s Questions, confronting Khan about 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓭 government plans to impose a road user charge disguised as a “pay-per-mile” tax starting 2028. She accused Khan of breaking his 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓲𝓽 pledge from just last month, when he vowed to stand firm against any pay-per-mile policy in London. “You said no to pay per mile. Now you’re saying it’s acceptable. Stand by your word!” she demanded.

Khan’s response appeared evasive and defensive. He insisted the government is not introducing “paper mile,” but clarified that from 2028 there would be a novel vehicle excise duty specifically targeting electric cars which currently evade road tax. When pressed on how charges would be calculated, Khan suggested it would likely be mileage-based but deferred to the government’s exact plans, offering to take Best’s concerns directly to Whitehall.

The back-and-forth unfolded in sharp relief, as Best accused Khan of shifting goalposts and diluting his anti-pay-per-mile stance. “Last month, you promised to fight this. Today, you say it might happen,” she said incredulously. Khan tried to pivot, emphasizing he has “no plans” to implement pay-per-mile through Transport for London and questioned the feasibility of individual vehicle tracking by 2028.

The controversy taps into wider anxieties about the government’s direction on electric vehicle taxation and the future of London’s transport ecosystem. Best’s aggressive interrogation spotlighted deep mistrust among Assembly members and Londoners fearful of looming charges that could disproportionately hit drivers transitioning to electric vehicles.

Further complicating the session, Labour Assembly Member James Small Edwards praised Khan’s support for the government’s removal of the two-child benefit cap, highlighting its potential impact on reducing child poverty in London. Khan underscored his long-standing opposition to the cap, blaming the Conservative government for its introduction and celebrating the recent policy reversal as a major win for families.

Yet the session’s explosive centerpiece remained Best’s relentless drilling into Khan’s contradictory messaging on the pay-per-mile scheme. The Mayor faced relentless questioning on why he would now tolerate a policy he once promised to reject outright, raising questions about his reliability on critical transport promises.

 

Best demanded clarity on the mechanics of the planned taxes, pressing Khan for specifics on how authorities would monitor mileage and calculate fees. Khan’s hedging responses were met with visible frustration, amplifying the perception of a leadership in disarray 𝒄𝒂𝓊𝓰𝒉𝓉 between government mandates and public opposition.

The confrontation highlighted an urgent policy fault line as London grapples with balancing environmental goals, fiscal realities, and the concerns of drivers. The pay-per-mile debate has ignited fierce opposition citywide, with critics branding the scheme unfair and impractical, particularly for lower-income Londoners adapting to electric vehicles.

This explosive exchange between Best and Khan signals a critical moment in London’s political landscape, raising alarms over transparency, accountability, and the future shape of transport levies. With major decisions looming over the next parliament, the pressure on Khan to deliver unequivocal leadership has never been more intense.

As the session closed, the message was clear: Londoners demand answers and steadfast commitment from their Mayor, not ambiguities and apparent reversals. The spat laid bare the complexities and high stakes of navigating government mandates while defending local interests in one of the world’s most scrutinized capitals.

The government’s pay-per-mile proposals remain shrouded in uncertainty, but the political fallout is already echoing through City Hall. Emma Best’s vociferous challenge has energized opponents of the scheme and cast long shadows over Khan’s standing as a champion for London’s drivers.

 

Londoners and policymakers alike will be watching closely as this fiery controversy unfolds, hungry for decisive action and clear directives. The Mayor’s handling of the pay-per-mile issue could set the tone for his remaining tenure, defining his legacy amid mounting political heat.

 

The intensity of today’s London Assembly session underscores the urgent demand for transparency and decisive leadership on transport policy as the capital braces for profound changes at the intersection of climate action and fiscal policy.

 

With pivotal decisions expected imminently, the political battleground has been set. Emma Best’s dramatic rebuke of Sadiq Khan reverberates as a clarion call for accountability, marking a charged chapter in London’s turbulent governance saga that refuses to subside.

The political temperature spiked overnight after Tommy Robinson publicly accused Keir Starmer of what he described as “electoral fraud” following shock election cancellations.

The claim landed like a thunderclap, cutting through an already tense national mood and instantly igniting arguments across newsrooms, living rooms, and social platforms.

At the center of the storm sits one decision, the abrupt cancellation of four local elections, announced with little public buildup and even less explanation.

For Robinson’s supporters, the issue was not partisan but existential, arguing that cancelling votes strikes at the core of democratic legitimacy.

They insisted that elections are not administrative conveniences, but civic obligations that cannot be paused without consequence.

Robinson framed his accusation carefully yet forcefully, claiming that removing the public’s ability to vote without consent amounts to systemic manipulation.

He did not present evidence of criminal wrongdoing, but emphasized what he called a pattern of decisions that erode trust by design rather than accident.

That distinction mattered legally, but emotionally it did little to slow the reaction.

Within minutes, clips of Robinson’s remarks spread rapidly, clipped, captioned, and shared with escalating intensity.

The phrase “electoral fraud” dominated timelines, stripped of nuance and loaded with implication.

Supporters repeated it as a warning.

Critics repeated it as an example of dangerous rhetoric.

Few remained neutral.

Starmer’s allies responded with alarm, accusing Robinson of inflaming public fear without proof.

They warned that accusations of fraud, even framed as opinion, risk undermining confidence in democratic institutions.

Several Labour figures stressed that election administration decisions are governed by law, not personal whim.

They argued that emergency circumstances sometimes require postponement, not cancellation, and certainly not conspiracy.

Yet the language used in official explanations only fueled suspicion rather than calmed it.

For many voters, the distinction between postponement and cancellation felt deliberately opaque.

Confusion bred mistrust.

Mistrust bred anger.

And anger found a voice in Robinson’s accusation.

Commentators noted that Britain has grown increasingly sensitive to anything that resembles democratic interference.

Years of global election controversies have conditioned the public to scrutinize every procedural deviation.

Against that backdrop, the cancellation of four local votes felt less like bureaucracy and more like provocation.

Robinson capitalized on that anxiety, arguing that trust, once broken, cannot be restored by press releases.

He challenged officials to explain why voters were not consulted and why alternatives were not clearly communicated.

The absence of detailed justification became as controversial as the cancellations themselves.

Critics of Robinson accused him of exploiting uncertainty to advance his own profile.

They pointed to his history of confrontational rhetoric, warning audiences to distinguish between critique and conspiracy.

Supporters countered that dismissing questions as extremism is precisely how accountability disappears.

The country split rapidly along familiar lines.

One side viewed the accusation as reckless and irresponsible.

The other saw it as overdue scrutiny.

Political analysts observed that the controversy revealed a deeper fracture, not just about elections, but about authority.

Who decides when democracy pauses.

Who explains it.

And who bears the cost when explanations fall short.

Starmer himself did not immediately address Robinson’s language, focusing instead on defending the legality of the decision.

That silence on the accusation was interpreted in sharply different ways.

Supporters saw it as dignified restraint.

Opponents saw avoidance.

The vacuum allowed speculation to multiply.

Social media did the rest.

Posts framed the issue in stark terms, vote theft versus rule of law, tyranny versus responsibility.

Each framing hardened positions rather than inviting dialogue.

Election experts attempted to intervene, explaining procedural mechanisms and statutory powers.

Their threads, however, traveled slower than outrage.

Anger proved more shareable than explanation.

The four cancelled elections became symbols rather than events, standing in for broader fears about democratic backsliding.

Protesters began gathering in small numbers, holding signs demanding clarity and restoration of voting rights.

Others organized online campaigns calling for investigations, audits, and parliamentary review.

Robinson amplified these reactions, framing them as evidence that the public refuses to be sidelined.

Labour figures warned that legitimizing such framing risks normalizing distrust toward every future election outcome.

They argued that democracy collapses when losing sides claim fraud reflexively.

Opponents replied that democracy collapses faster when voting itself is cancelled.

The argument spiraled outward, touching unrelated grievances and long simmering resentments.

Energy costs.

Immigration.

Local governance.

National identity.

All flowed into the same debate.

Analysts noted that the controversy was less about the legal merits of cancellation and more about perception.

Perception determines legitimacy long before courts ever intervene.

Once citizens feel excluded, reassurance sounds like condescension.

Robinson’s language, while unproven, resonated because it named a feeling many already carried.

That does not make it factual.

But it makes it powerful.

Critics stressed that accusations of fraud require evidence, not emotion.

They urged restraint, warning that words can destabilize systems faster than policies ever could.

Supporters replied that silence and technical jargon destabilize trust just as effectively.

The clash exposed a fragile truth.

Modern democracies rely as much on belief as on law.

When belief fractures, legality alone cannot hold the structure together.

Starmer’s leadership style, long defined by caution and procedure, now faces a challenge it was not designed for.

Procedural correctness does not automatically translate into public confidence.

Especially when decisions are sudden and explanations feel incomplete.

Robinson’s accusation forced a binary question into public debate.

Was this democratic failure.

Or reckless provocation.

The absence of consensus ensured the story’s longevity.

Media outlets debated framing, some emphasizing the accusation, others emphasizing the lack of evidence.

Neither approach satisfied both sides.

The controversy became self sustaining.

Each response generated backlash.

Each clarification raised new questions.

Political trust, once shaken, proved difficult to stabilize.

The episode underscored how fragile democratic norms become during periods of economic and cultural strain.

Voters already anxious about livelihoods react sharply to anything that suggests loss of voice.

Robinson tapped into that anxiety.

Starmer now must navigate it.

Whether investigations follow or explanations deepen remains uncertain.

What is certain is that the phrase “electoral fraud” has entered the conversation, regardless of its accuracy.

Once introduced, such language is hard to retract.

It lingers, reshaping how future decisions are interpreted.

Supporters of democracy on all sides acknowledged the danger.

Accusations without proof corrode trust.

But so do decisions without transparency.

The controversy revealed that Britain’s democratic debate is no longer confined to polling day.

It unfolds daily, online, volatile and unforgiving.

Every procedural move is now judged not only by law, but by optics and emotion.

Robinson’s claim may never be substantiated.

Or it may force uncomfortable scrutiny.

Either outcome leaves scars.

The cancellation of four elections will be remembered not for its legal rationale, but for its political impact.

A single decision.

A single accusation.

And a nation arguing once again about who controls the vote.

For some, this was a warning sign.

For others, a dangerous distraction.

For Britain, it was another reminder that democracy depends on trust as much as ballots.

And once trust fractures, every decision becomes a battlefield.

The fairy tale marriage between Formula 1’s most successful driver and its most iconic team has hit a jagged, unforgiving reality. As the dust settles on the 2025 season, Lewis Hamilton finds himself in unfamiliar territory: beaten, frustrated, and—according to a shocking new admission from teammate Charles Leclerc—completely on his own.

For fans who dreamed of a harmonious “super team” at Ferrari, the latest developments paint a starkly different picture. The 2025 season, which was supposed to be Hamilton’s glorious rebirth in scarlet, has instead morphed into what the seven-time world champion openly calls the “toughest” campaign of his career. And if he was looking for a helping hand from across the garage, Charles Leclerc has made it crystal clear: don’t look at me.

The “Worst” Era of Hamilton’s Career

The frustration radiating from Hamilton is palpable. The British legend has made no secret of his disdain for the current “ground effect” regulations that have governed the sport since 2022. Speaking with raw honesty, Hamilton admitted, “There’s not a single thing I’ll miss about these cars,” branding this specific cycle of engineering his “least favorite” since his rookie debut back in 2007.

The numbers back up his misery. In a career boasting a staggering 105 wins, only two have come under these punishing regulations. The cars, which rely heavily on ground effect aerodynamics, have blunted the precise late-braking advantage that defined Hamilton’s dominance for over a decade.

“This generation was probably the worst one I would say,” Hamilton confessed, his tone dejected. “I’m praying that the next one is not worse than that.”

His prayers are directed squarely at 2026, when a sweeping overhaul of chassis and power unit regulations promises a reset. But that future hope does little to soothe the sting of a 2025 season that saw him finish a distant sixth in the championship—a massive 86 points adrift of his teammate.

Leclerc’s Brutal Reality Check

While Hamilton wrestles with the machinery, his dynamic with Charles Leclerc has come under intense scrutiny. Leclerc, who has been groomed as Ferrari’s golden boy for years, was expected by some to help integrate the veteran into the team’s complex systems. However, in a verdict that has sent shockwaves through the paddock, Leclerc has washed his hands of that responsibility.

When asked if he could offer guidance to lift Hamilton’s form, Leclerc was blunt. “My job is to obviously maximize whatever I can do in my control,” the Monegasque driver stated. “There’s already so many things I’m focused on for myself and the team… it’s obviously difficult for me to then also spend time helping Hamilton.”

Leclerc went a step further, highlighting the awkwardness of mentoring a driver with Hamilton’s resume. “Lewis has achieved a lot more than I ever did. I don’t really have any advice to give him.”

While diplomatically phrased, the message is undeniable: in the cutthroat world of F1, survival comes first. Leclerc’s refusal to step into a mentorship role underscores the harsh reality that Hamilton is no longer the undisputed king of the grid—he is a competitor struggling to keep up, and his teammate is too busy solidifying his own dominance to look back.

A Statistical Massacre

If the quotes are harsh, the data is unforgiving. The 2025 season was a statistical massacre for Hamilton. The head-to-head record is brutal: Leclerc crushed Hamilton 19-5 in qualifying and 18-3 in race finishes.

The gap in raw pace was equally alarming. Leclerc averaged nearly a quarter of a second faster per lap in race trim—a lifetime in Formula 1 terms. While Carlos Sainz, Hamilton’s predecessor, kept the margins razor-thin in 2024, Hamilton has trailed significantly, leading critics to suggest Ferrari may have inadvertently swapped a near-equal partner for a driver who is currently performing as a clear “number two.”

Hamilton’s lone highlight—a sprint victory in Shanghai—feels like a drop in the ocean compared to the expectations placed upon his shoulders. No Grand Prix wins. No pole positions. No podiums on Sunday. For a brand built on “titles and triumphs,” the return on investment has been shockingly low on the track.

The Strategic Gamble: Sacrificing the Present

However, insiders argue that looking purely at the lap times misses the bigger picture. Ferrari’s 2025 struggles were partly self-inflicted—a calculated gamble supported “100%” by Hamilton himself.

Development on the 2025 car was halted as early as June, a decision driven by Team Principal Fred Vasseur to pour all resources into the revolutionary 2026 car. “I was pushing Fred,” Hamilton revealed, insisting that the pain of 2025 was necessary for future gain. “We can’t fall behind the others in terms of development for the new car… so I supported it 100%.”

This strategic retreat suggests that Ferrari views 2025 as a “transitional year.” They are banking on Hamilton’s massive commercial power to sustain the brand off-track while they build a championship contender for the new era.

Can the King Rise Again?

As the sport hurtles toward the 2026 regulations, the question hanging over Maranello is whether Lewis Hamilton can rediscover his magic. Leclerc has noted that adapting to Ferrari is a “long process,” citing his own seven-year tenure as the reason for his comfort. “For Lewis, it’s still new… the processes are completely different,” Leclerc explained.

But time is not on Hamilton’s side. Now 40 years old, he is fighting not just a difficult car and a dominant teammate, but the relentless march of time. He is betting everything on the 2026 reset to rewrite the narrative of his Ferrari legacy.

For now, the verdict is in: The honeymoon is over, the help isn’t coming, and Lewis Hamilton is facing the steepest mountain of his life alone. Whether this is the darkness before the dawn or the twilight of a legend remains the most captivating story in motorsport.

In the high-octane world of Formula 1, few jobs are as coveted—or as cursed—as the second seat at Red Bull Racing. It is a position that promises podiums and victories, yet historically, it has delivered heartbreak and career stagnation for some of the sport’s brightest talents. For years, fans and pundits have speculated on what exactly makes partnering with Max Verstappen so impossibly difficult. Is it the car’s setup? The team’s favoritism? Or simply the crushing weight of comparing oneself to a generational talent?

Now, on the cusp of a revolutionary 2026 season, the four-time World Champion has finally broken his silence. In a candid revelation that has sent ripples through the paddock, Verstappen has outlined exactly what he demands from the driver on the other side of the garage. And surprisingly, raw speed isn’t at the top of the list.

The Graveyard of Ambition

To understand the weight of Verstappen’s recent comments, we must first look at the wreckage of the past. The list of drivers who have tried and failed to tame the Red Bull alongside the Dutchman reads like a “who’s who” of wasted potential.

It began with Pierre Gasly in 2019, who lasted only half a season before the pressure cracked his confidence, leading to a demotion back to Toro Rosso. Then came Alex Albon, a driver of immense skill who managed to survive until the end of 2020, but whose inability to consistently match Verstappen’s blistering pace eventually sealed his fate.

Perhaps the most tragic chapter was written by Sergio “Checo” Perez. The Mexican veteran brought stability and experience, securing five Grand Prix wins and surviving four full seasons—the longest tenure of any recent teammate. Yet, even Checo could not escape the inevitable gravity of Verstappen’s dominance. A catastrophic collapse in form throughout 2024, followed by an early exit, proved that experience alone is not a shield.

The carnage continued with ruthless efficiency. Liam Lawson was given a mere two races to prove his worth before being unceremoniously sent back to Racing Bulls. Even Yuki Tsunoda, a Honda protégé with undeniable raw speed, was sidelined to a test and reserve role. The message from Milton Keynes has always been implicit but clear: sink or swim.

The Verstappen Standard: Transparency Over Friendship

So, what does it take to stop the revolving door? Verstappen’s answer is characteristically blunt, practical, and devoid of sentimentality.

“Good and also developing the car with the team,” Verstappen stated when asked about his ideal teammate. “Good understanding between the drivers… friendly, funny, open-minded, not hiding things throughout the weekend.”

The key phrase here—”not hiding things”—reveals a fundamental truth about the internal workings of a top-tier F1 team. In an era where data is king, hoarding secrets is an act of sabotage. Verstappen isn’t looking for a rival who tries to get a leg up by withholding setup data or braking points. He is looking for a collaborator who understands that the only way to beat the competition is to elevate the entire team.

For a team like Red Bull, which relies on two cars to gather data on tire degradation, aerodynamic balance, and fuel loads, a secretive teammate is a liability. Verstappen’s dominance allows him to be pragmatic; he doesn’t fear a teammate seeing his data because he is confident he can execute better. But he cannot tolerate a teammate who slows down the engineering feedback loop.

Crucially, Verstappen drew a sharp line between professional respect and personal friendship. “If you are good friends off track, that’s a nice bonus but not necessarily needed,” he explained. “As long as you are very professional on track and it benefits the team.”

This is a departure from the romanticized view of F1 “bromances.” Verstappen doesn’t need a dinner companion; he needs a colleague who shows up prepared, shares information freely, and works toward the collective goal of the Constructors’ Championship. It is a mindset of pure efficiency, separating the personal from the professional in a way few athletes can master.

The New Challenger: Isack Hadjar

Enter Isack Hadjar. The young Frenchman is the latest brave soul to step into the cauldron for the 2026 season. Fresh off an impressive rookie stint with Racing Bulls, Hadjar has earned his promotion. But unlike his predecessors, who often arrived with bold claims of challenging for the title, Hadjar is adopting a radically different psychological strategy.

“The goal is to accept that I’m going to be slower the first month,” Hadjar frankly told the media in Abu Dhabi. “I think that if you go into that mindset, you accept already that it’s going to be very tough looking at the data and seeing things you can’t achieve yet.”

This admission is not a lack of ambition; it is a survival mechanism. Previous teammates were destroyed because they expected to match Verstappen immediately, and when they couldn’t, they spiraled. By inoculating himself against the shock of the performance gap, Hadjar is buying himself mental space to learn. He is expecting the frustration, accepting the initial defeat, and planning to work through it methodically.

It is a humble, mature approach that aligns perfectly with Verstappen’s demand for an “open-minded” teammate. Hadjar isn’t trying to hide his deficits; he is acknowledging them as the starting point for his growth.

The Great Reset of 2026

If there was ever a time for a rookie to survive alongside Max Verstappen, 2026 might be it. The sport is undergoing its most comprehensive regulatory overhaul in years, essentially resetting the playing field.

The new regulations introduce smaller, lighter cars with active aerodynamics, eliminating the traditional DRS system. Power units will now feature a 50/50 split between electrical and internal combustion power, running on fully sustainable biofuels. Pirelli tires will be narrower, changing the mechanical grip profile of the cars completely.

For Red Bull, the stakes are even higher. 2026 marks the debut of the Red Bull Ford powertrains—a bold gamble to become an independent engine manufacturer. This introduces a massive variable. As Verstappen’s manager Raymond Vermeulen noted, “What’s the reference for next year? Nobody knows.”

This uncertainty is Hadjar’s greatest ally. Verstappen, despite his brilliance, will also be learning a new car and a new engine. The gap in experience, while still vast, is slightly neutralized by the fact that everyone is starting from zero with the new machinery.

Verstappen himself is entering 2026 with a chip on his shoulder. Having missed the 2025 World Championship by a heartbreaking two points—ending his streak of consecutive titles—he is hungry for redemption. He needs a teammate who can score points, help develop the new Ford engine, and not cause internal friction.

Conclusion

The “second seat” at Red Bull has been a career-killer for half a decade. But as the sport heads into a new era, the dynamics are shifting. Max Verstappen has laid his cards on the table: he demands transparency, professionalism, and a contribution to the team’s technical progress. He doesn’t need a best friend; he needs a reliable partner.

Isack Hadjar seems to have heard the message. By dropping the ego and accepting the learning curve, he might just have the right psychological armor to survive where Gasly, Albon, and Perez could not. The 2026 season promises to be a fascinating case study in human psychology and technical adaptability. If Hadjar can keep his head down, share his data, and survive the initial storm, he might just prove that the “impossible job” is possible after all.