Lewis Hamilton takes aim at Fish & Chips but maybe he has a point

We live in a nation divided. Left versus Right. North versus South. Ant versus Dec (probably).

But one thing we can all unite behind is the sanctity of our national cuisine - fish and chips. Only this isn’t the case for F1 champion Lewis Hamilton.

In his defection to Maranello, Hamilton has forgotten the joy of queuing up in your local chippy on a Friday night, inhaling the waft of batter and the deep-fat fryer as it inevitably sticks to your freshly washed clothes.

He is a stranger to the pain of picking up an eight centimetre long chip with the world’s weakest wooden fork, or having to plump for a disappointing Tango because there’s no Rio in the fridge.

No. According to Hamilton, tea at the ‘Codfather’, ‘Fish Plaice’, ‘Frying Nemo’ (insert preferred chippy pun here), isn’t exciting. Well, at least not as exciting as Italian cuisine.

I mean really? Fresh caught Ligurian seafood mixed into squid ink spaghetti, and finished off with a bottle of Cinque Terre wine. Pah!

Fresh baked pizza topped with Genovese pesto, burrata and mortadella. You’d be a fo- wait? It actually does sound better doesn’t it?

Italian vs British cuisine: There’s no competition really

For most people, all it takes is a week on the continent to realise how bland and boring British cuisine is. For Hamilton, it took a move to Maranello and a multi-million salary, but hey! Better to be a late bloomer than to not bloom at all.

Instead of a cheese (vegan of course) sandwich and a packet of Hula Hoops on his lunch break with Bono at Mercedes, Hamilton finds himself at a team that would sneer at what most Brits call a meal.

“The others [F1 teams] are a bit less… colourful. They all have their qualities but Italians wear their emotions more obviously, for good and bad, but mostly for the good, I think,” Hamilton explained.

“You see the passion every day, in the way Italians talk about food, for example. In England you don’t get excited talking about fish and chips, you know?”

Maybe Hamilton’s right. Maybe he’s not. And on goes the pointless debacle that is national pride based on the fact you batter your fish more than your European neighbours.

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