In a development that has sent shockwaves through the British motorsport community, French Formula One legend Alain Prost has been injured during a home invasion by a masked gang. The four-time world champion, known to his adoring fans as 'The Professor', was reportedly roughed up by the ne'er-do-wells who clearly missed the memo that one does not simply assault a living legend. The incident occurred at Prost's Swiss villa, where the raiders made off with an undisclosed haul of trophies, helmets, and perhaps a few of those ghastly 1990s blazers that no amount of victory can justify.
The British motorsport community, a fraternity that runs on equal parts tea and terror, has reacted with the kind of dignified outrage usually reserved for a controversial penalty decision. Lewis Hamilton, a man who knows a thing or two about being targeted by gangs (though usually in the context of FIA rule changes), expressed his 'shock and sadness' on social media. Meanwhile, pundits have been quick to point out the irony: Prost, who spent his career dodging Senna's rear wheels, now finds himself dodging actual criminals. Perhaps this is the universe's way of saying that retirement doesn't mean you get to relax.
But let us not dwell on the grim details. Instead, let us marvel at the sheer audacity of these miscreants. To target a man whose nickname is 'The Professor' suggests a certain level of academic disrespect. Did they think they were stealing from a librarian? And the masks. What is it with masks? Are they concerned about being identified, or is it simply that they couldn't find a decent balaclava in Switzerland? I imagine the Swiss have very efficient balaclavas. Probably numbered and colour-coded.
As for Prost, word has it he is recovering well, no doubt plotting a spectacular comeback. Perhaps a charity drive against home invasions? Or a new line of security systems endorsed by the man who once defended against Ayrton Senna's late-braking antics. Either way, one thing is certain: this story has everything - international intrigue, a beloved figure in distress, and the implication that somewhere out there, a man is trying to pawn a helmet that smells of champagne and victory.
The British motorsport community will hold a moment of silence at the next Grand Prix. Or at least a moment of slightly louder than usual engine revving. And somewhere, in a quiet corner of Switzerland, Alain Prost is probably checking his smoke alarm, wondering if it's time to upgrade to a reinforced door. The professor has been schooled. But mark my words: he will be back. With or without a blazer.
