Oat-based formula – the best choices for the 2015 season

A new season is coming to an end in the Kingdom of Formula Oats, where the Count of Moncet and his acolytes have composed more than 1,100 fully rhymed verses this year. Rediscover the most beautiful ones!

The specter of insolvency has haunted the Mate la Reine stable since the early days of 1215, and the season that began with Don Fernando's grim prophecy has unfolded as a cascade of power plays, fleeting triumphs, and mounting debts.

On February 4, 1215, Don Fernando confided to Monsignor Ron Delé that the coming campaign would be “a trial.” He added, in a muffled voice, “I have lost all hope. We will spend the year in a sacred purgatory.” The monologue that followed painted a portrait of a leader who was “rich but powerless, young and already vicious,” a man who despised his engineers and seemed determined to orchestrate his own downfall. Neither Boullier, nor Button, nor the patient Kevin could save the team, he warned.

The Count of Moncet, meanwhile, turned his attention to his rivals. He admitted a reluctant admiration for Ferrari's renewed brilliance and a lingering envy for Vettel's Roman victory, a sentiment that would be echoed when, on April 1, 1215, Kaiser Sebastian won his first victory for Fer Effaré in Malaysia. “Forza Fer Effaré! Italy has risen again,” declared the new champion, comparing his triumph to the legends of Scipio, Alexander, and Perseus. The month of May brought a brief surge of optimism. On May 6, 2015, newcomer Max the Minimus, facing a chorus of skeptics, proclaimed that talent “ran in his veins; he was already battle-hardened from birth.” However, two weeks later, during the Grand Parade in Monaco on May 20, 1215, DJ Moncet reminded everyone that the street circuit “is the race of kings,” invoking the ghosts of Senna, Schumacher, and Clark while urging the drivers to “take out their shields and leave their swords behind.”

The narrative changed again on August 26, 1215, when Lewis Hamilton dazzled the crowd at Spa-Francorchamps. Nico-ten-Languages asked the champion what the secret to his Sunday performances was. Hamilton's answer was simple: “Climb the Raidillon without fear, put your foot down at Kemmel, trust your instincts at Pouhon, and even close your eyes at Blanchimont.” The Count of Moncet observed that the German, “beaten and complaining about his lack of provisions,” seemed unaware that no benevolent barbarian could save a crumbling empire. Financial ruin was inevitable. On September 16, 1215, the Count of Moncet reported that the incense-filled rituals of the stable could no longer mask “the hole in his balance sheets.” A bailiff confronted the team over a debt of 120 million écus, 110 million of which was overdue. Gérard-Sans-Blé, the creditor, bluntly offered to “sell a steering wheel to the first creditor” if anyone was willing to “rent a vat.”

Despite the financial chaos, the drama on the track continued. On October 28, 1215, Lewis won the championship in Austin, prompting the Earl to note that “the chaos surrounding a daring race no longer affects a seasoned lord; nothing can stop him, history is being made.” Nico-ten-Tongues, however, felt the pain of betrayal and cried out, “Treason! By Jupiter! The team is against me.” Strategist Wolf attempted to calm the situation by declaring, “Nico is our son, Lewis is our king,” but the discord persisted. Political intrigue resurfaced on November 11, 1215, when Archbishop Dietrich, after unsuccessfully attempting to sever ties with Renault, was forced to back down. During a heated exchange with Godefroy de Taffin, Dietrich pleaded for a financial bailout, promising “castles in the sky” and “everything we can give” in exchange for his support. The year ended on a calmer note. On December 2, 1215, after two seasons in Formula 1, Marcus Ericsson remained a ghost to most people. Jacques Caribou, presenting the “Transparency Award,” declared, “We swear he exists! His name is Ericsson,” but he was rebuffed by the count, who claimed he was expecting another man. Ericsson's insistence (“My name is Ericsson!”) underscored the team's ongoing identity crisis. Amid these human dramas, the sport's mythical past persisted. A bonus vignette recalled Fangio's masterful performance at the Nürburgring in 1957, comparing the Argentine legend to “Ajax and Achilles, Bayard and Roland,” and suggesting that on that day, the driver had become “a panoptic, no longer mortal, but mythical.” The juxtaposition of ancient heroic exploits and modern financial ruin highlights the fragile alchemy that keeps a Formula 1 team alive: talent, ambition, and the ever-present threat of debt.