Bathurst Beer Bingo

At the World Of Bollocks, we're all about making your lives just that little bit more fun and fulfilling. It's Bathurst weekend, and while that in itself will be having buck-toothed ute-driving yeehaas in boganlicious hysteria up and down the big wide flat brown land of Straya (and its damp lumpy appendages to the east), you may be one of the many people who 'don't
get car racing.' Maybe you have ovaries, or are of lefty environmental leanings, or are a big poofter. Our sympathies; the rest of you softcocks have no bloody excuse and are expected to report either to the couch or to the front bar of your local well in advance of 1030 hours this Sunday. You have been warned.

To aid the non-racegoer in better understanding and appreciating the subtle nuances of Australia's Great Race, The World Of Bollocks Has Used Up All Its Capitals Already has put together the following guide/preview/drinking game entitled Bathurst 2007: Enjoying 'The Great Race', Or Getting Fucking Smashed Trying.

Pre-race preparation
Unless you're planning to be at the pub, get lots of beers in. Lots. Trust me. The last time I watched the race sober was 1998, and Jesus H. fucking Christ was it dull. Besides, there's something quite religious about the experience of legitimately cracking your first beer at half-ten on a Sunday morning, just as the lights go out and the field pitches itself into turn one - quite appropriately named Hell Corner. Though that's primarily because if you don't turn left there and keep heading straight you end up in Lithgow.

Practice and qualifying
Don't go too hard in any Friday or Saturday sessions you take part in. Remember the mantra of endurance competition: to finish first, first you must finish. And by six on Sunday you'll be fucking finished, don't you worry about that sunshine.

Race day: win on Sunday, be fucking hungover on Monday
Bathurst race day is a marathon, not a sprint, and through the generations many have gone too hard too early and ended up parked in the weeds wondering what might have been, or at least wondering why the room won't stop spinning. In order to deconvolute the highly complicated scoring system in use at Bathurst, this is how it works.

The following is a series of incidents or events that, once witnessed by any one of your race team, are deemed worthy of 'a vessel' - that is, you will be required by race organisers to drain your drinking vessel into an appropriate orifice, hopefully your mouth. This is where the advantage of the throwdown stubbie or the NZ pub-spec 7oz (200mL) beer glass comes into play; choose wisely, don't be let down by your equipment.

























Or the quality of your race fuel, for that matter.

You will be required to consume the content of your vessel on occasion of the following:

• The race start

This moment is to be savoured, as it will be recalled next day as the point where, as the Back Of The Y team would have put it, SUDDENLY, THE STUNT WENT HORRIBLY WRONG.

• Announcement of a safety car period

For particularly long safety car periods, at the organisers' discretion, further 'vessels' may be called for. As a result of this policy Paul Radisich, after smearing the Team Kiwi along the bridge supports after the Chase, has been judged responsible for a large proportion of my hangover from last year.














The world's first rear-engined V8 Supercar hatchback

• Gratuitous, awkward commentary references to Peter Brock

A bit of a gimme really.

• Mark Skaife swearing on race radio

Likewise. Last year it didn't even take half a lap.

• Todd Kelly getting the Sandown squirts again

Which will probably result in Skaifey dropping the F-bomb as soon as he parks himself mid-puddle in the seat after a pit stop

• Confirmed sightings of anyone busting out the race tape and/or sledgehammer in pit lane
  
• WPS team driver Grant Denyer being referred to as 'the dancing weatherman'

What a twat

• Some poor bastard in pit lane getting cleaned up by another team's tyres/tools/car
  
• Idiot commentator Matthew White declaring after four or five dull-as-fuck hours that 'The action is really hotting up now' (V8 Supercars' equivalent to Tony Greig's 'Ut duzen't git more excitung then thus')
  
• Dick Johnson looking really, really old when interviewed in pit lane
  
• Neil Crompton boring everyone to tears with punishingly detailed dissections of roll centre adjustments, fuel mapping, and dicking around with those interactive 3D CAD drawings he flogged from Tasman Motorsport
  (However, Cromptonian references to individuals or teams 'managing the race' are not a 'Vessel' offence as the organisers would like to see someone still upright and functional beyond the two hour mark)
  
• Someone giggling when the commentators mention Mark Winterbottom
  

Certain extraordinary circumstances of great significance, unexpectedness or importance, as determined by the organisers, may require a 'double vessel' - that is to sköl, refill, and sköl once more. These include:

• Greg Murphy ripping the fuel hose off with his car like a few years back and going off to sulk in the team Portaloo again
  
• Craig Lowndes not making a smug shiny-faced arseburgler of himself such that you just want to stove in his stupid munchkin face with a shovel and scream 'Brocky never loved you and your missus is hideous, chumblybum'
• Someone bunkering the Chrysler 300C safety car in the sandtrap
  
• Someone other than Triple 8 or HRT/Toll-HSV winning the race
• Anyone still being sober at the four hour race update (to the point of being able to read the clock on the wall and surmise that this is indeed the four hour update)
  

And finally, should any of the following occur:

• The Chrysler 300C safety car stopping up at the campgrounds on top of the hill to pull burnouts and/or deliver slabs of piss from Bathurst Liquorland
• The Nissan GTR (aka Godzilla) coming out of retirement Rocky Balboa-style to show these young Falcodore upstarts how things were done back in the day (later to be disqualified for using performance-enhancing substances)
  
• Paul Morris winning the race

Stop drinking immediately as you are clearly pissed as forty bastards and have begun to hallucinate. We recommend finding a Powerade, a kebab and a taxi home.

Good luck, and remember, when the flag drops, the bullshit stops. The bullshitting, however, has only just begun.

The Doctor is OUT, lap 28, engine.