Poor old Mansell, eh? There he was, trying to beat the Brazilian chap, when he loses his brakes and spins off the track with all the grace of a hippo with the trots. To cap it all, Senna lets his learn mate, Berger, win the race. Ha! Anyway, here's a chance to get your own back.
What we have here is a menu-driven game. That means that the computer decides what to do. So there s no dodging and a-diving on the track, no gears, no accelerators and no steering. What you have instead is a plethora of decisions to make and a few keys to press, making the faithful old joystick a tad redundant.
All the Grand Prix racers have been reduced to mere numbers and then shoved rudely onto this cassette. Instead of getting to guide Mansell or Warwick to the championship, you're lumbered with a thoroughly second rate driver called (of all things) J Smith. Such originality, such daring, such crap.
The first thing you've got to do is lavish some dosh on your motor. This includes paying out for mechanics, an engine (the YS team feel that this one's quite important), steering, power, fuel and travel costs. Sorted all that out, pick some tyres and zip into a race.
Races usually follow the same pattern - Mansell streaks into the lead, Senna sits one second behind him and the rest of us knock around in the pit lane. Meanwhile, the mechanics inform us that we obviously had cowboys in last time the car was repaired and that these repairs are likely to cost us as much as a 'pony'.
Anyway, it's all terribly dull. The most exciting moment is that rare second when your crap car manages to knock Boutson into 10th place. The moment you (or rather the computer decides to) attempt to overtake him he whacks his car into reverse and performs an old rural two finger salute. You then perform a daring slip-stream manoeuvre which leaves the chap looking decidedly stupid.
The idea of the game is to make loads of dosh and win the Championship. If you get bored of racing you can always try betting. Stick your dash on Mansell or Senna and you can't go wrong. Right, on with the race preparation: anyone know what the AA's number is?
Bit too boring to be any fun. Stick to optomotry instead. (Look it up!)
Peaky Piquet's history in my rear view mirror, for a second anyway.
Dear old Nige won the race, although you might have trouble finding him here.