Artefacts from the nineteen-eighties mysteriously disappearing which we might have used to contravert narratives with as much effort as it takes to wind up a clock, at least I know I'm a spoil-sport. I hate a mess. The playing of games in spite of what's around us, we come to appreciate that realism has much to do with the making of mistakes.
'No pressure, Mr Senna, but if you don't win this race the new regulations are going to put you at the back of the pack.'
'And we've been able to ascertain this with the use of simulation tools which haven't missed a beat in the last half decade: so if you don't win we're firing you.
'And we also determined that you won't be on the podium if you don't start on pole.'
Don't you love it when scientific people wish each other good luck? I'm guilty of that: being sensible takes a lot of work.