Not that there’s anything wrong with being among hundreds of half-naked men downing pints at 10 in the morning. It wasn’t as bad as seeing Bernie Ecclestone topless, but it came close.

Formula One, after all, is fuelled by testosterone. What other chemical could drive a person to stare for hours at oversized go-karts while inhaling petrol and blowing air horns for the maniacs piloting these things? F1 is for gangs of young men, throbs of old men, fathers and sons, and that rarely seen minority - males attached with a girlfriend or wife. No one else would spend £249 for a grandstand ticket to become deaf, sunburned, sweaty and broke. No one except true car lovers.

While I resisted the urge to yank off my Ferrari polo shirt and litter the ground with crushed Fosters cans, I was every bit the diehard petrolhead at Silverstone, which just happened to be my first grand prix. So after sucking in a weekend’s worth of sun and fast cars, I’ve compiled a brief list of do’s and don’t’s for all those Formula One rookies out there who’d do well with some advice and warning.

DO

DON’T

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