Flashback: Bare broadcast at the 1987 Brazilian Grand Prix

Not quite the BBC, perhaps, but this was typical of the Brazilian broadcasting art in 1987. Apart from his attire to cope with the searing heat at Jacarepaguá, the intrigue here is that the presenter is making contact with the outside world despite a communications set-up that appeared to be a joint effort by W Heath Robinson and PT Barnum.

When it came to their home GP in Rio, the Brazilians specialised in sending legions of radio reporters who gabbled incessantly from noon to night, often – as seems to be the case here – to any innocent passer-by. The one thing to be thankful for in this instance was their positioning outside the press room rather than inside it.

What we didn’t need was the constant broadcasting bedlam created by Nelson Piquet or Ayrton Senna simply putting one foot in front of the other.

It was bad enough having three French radio journalists accompany us around the world and habitually create a massive din at the back of the press room by collective shouting when Alain Prost did something useful on track. When Prost was out of the car, you were in danger of being either trampled underfoot or battered by a tape machine swinging from a fevered commentator’s shoulders. Having been sent all expenses paid by their respective radio stations, interviewing French drivers was the sole objective. Nothing – absolutely nothing – was allowed to stand in their way.

This led to a bizarre scene immediately after Prost had won the ’89 championship under controversial circumstances at Suzuka. The urgent need to have Prost speak across French radio airwaves was scuppered by television having priority. Prost was hustled direct from the podium to a temporary studio adjoining the media centre. Guarding the door to this room was a young official in regulation blue uniform, complete with peaked cap and white gloves. This apparently subservient man had enjoyed a quiet weekend thus far.

All hell broke loose as the French radio reporters tried to gain access. One of the broadcasters was Dominique Bressot, a wiry individual who towered over the Japanese official. His adversary’s superior height held no fear for the custodian of the door and the media centre was given an incredible sight.

Bressot was stuck half-way into the studio, a microphone in his right hand, his left hand trying unsuccessfully to beat off the blue-suited official who was clinging desperately with both arms locked around Bressot’s left leg. I did wonder briefly if the security man would have dared tackle our Brazilian friend in the same way – and concluded he probably would.