After the great years of British Formula One drivers in the Fifties and Sixties — Stirling Moss, Mike Hawthorn, Jim Clark and Jackie Stewart — the numbers suddenly dropped off, although there were plenty of British racing teams. Most of all, we needed a successor to the dash of Graham Hill, with his pencil moustache and flying scarf.

We got lucky with James Hunt, the ultimate playboy F1 champion. In the opening titles of The Persuaders there was a headline that read, “Lord Brett Sinclair wins grand prix”. Hunt was Roger Moore’s Brett Sinclair incarnate, a maverick with a passion for speed and high-rolling risks.

Hunt left his golden locks long and unkempt, had a taste for blonde totty, and gave the impression he had spent the night before every grand prix carousing at Annabel’s and come straight to the circuit only after the club had closed in the early dawn. The guy must have refuelled on champagne, and rather than yet another bottle to celebrate a podium position, a whisky chaser might have been more appropriate. Needless to say, he was also a bloody good driver.

British Formula One champs have been few and far between since Hunt’s triumph. Nigel Mansell, Damon Hill and now Lewis Hamilton. F1 now is a very different sport from the one James Hunt knew. There’s no cigarette sponsorship, of course, with the Marlboro and JPS days long gone.

The risk factor in Formula One has been drastically reduced. It’s now a battle between the engineers in the pit lane watching the tacho information and nursing their drivers through intricate calculations, taking the key decisions from the safety of their laptops. Meanwhile, the drivers train on PlayStation simulations of each track to build up muscle memory.

The control and the planning have taken the thrill away — and the horrible truth is that F1 used to be far more exciting when there was the possibility of a major pile-up. The mavericks have been corralled in a lock-up garage and there’s not a Graham Hill-style flying scarf in sight. Shame.

Extracted from Things Ain’t What They Used To Be, by Philip Glenister, published by Sphere, £14.99. Copies can be ordered for £13.49 with free delivery from The Sunday Times BooksFirst on 0845 271 2135

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