I love Formula One. Absolutely love it.

Every race, we turn on or tune into the action to witness another selection of prestigious laps from the motorsport calendar.

Arguably, it’s the pinnacle of certain technologies, combined by some of finest minds, then piloted by the most talented drivers around the best circuits in the world.

It’s a sensory feast of colour, speed and sound that only the fortunate few get to experience in the flesh once a year.

I am one of those fortunate few and I love it.

It’s the only time of the year when the finest circuit in UK comes alive too, the sprawling misshapen hoop that is Silverstone, is inundated with fans, keen to catch a glimpse of the incredible machines and the heros that guide them at boggling speeds.

Copse corner at 180mph. There are no other vehicles on this planet that can do that.

No brakes from Luffield through Vale. That’s half a lap of right foot. Half a Lap!

Utterly ridiculous. But what a sight.

Then on top of that, there’s everything else…sights, sounds, colours, smells and the emotion. It’s epic.

They say F1 needs saving, they say F1 needs to be like the “good old days” and they say that F1 needs to connect with the fans.

I say that’s absolute rubbish.

Formula 1 just needs to concentrate on being Formula 1.

Copse corner at 180mph. There are no other vehicles on this planet that can do that.

It needs wonder and marvel, in needs to inspire and awe. It is the pinnacle, it is what dreams are made of and that in itself is enough to drive it forward.

It just simply needs to be consistent, just and let the best team win.

Yes, the best team always wins…that’s true of any sport and none more so than F1. Sometimes it’s a walk over, sometimes not. Sometimes the underdog pulls through. Over the years, it’s happened time and time again.

Interfere with that and it’s no longer a sport. It’s a soap opera.

F1 doesn’t need rumour, speculation or the fictional babbling of Eddie Jordan. It doesn’t need Little ‘manufactured’ Mix or clueless shoreditch hipsters in loafers. Get in the bin.

And it doesn’t need journalists whipping up a furor of booing and jeers for the competition with ludicrous questions as they foam up in their own self-importance on the grid.

Myself and the 150,000-odd fans that rocked up to Silverstone on Sunday wanted to see one thing; a great race, a memorable Grand Prix and to enjoy ourselves.

F1 delivered just that, and would have done without all the fancy London fluffing and cheese.

I bet very few of those “fans” paid the money to get up to Silverstone a day later, to see the real F1.

Interested parties will happily pay money for such spectacle, to be apart of something so memorable and people always will. They have done for years.

They haven’t paid for the noise, or the twitter or the concerts or the stupidly impossible reaction speed test that was a mile wide…what was that?

We pay to watch the sport we enjoy, a quality race, the ups, the downs and to be just a tiny part of it all.

We pay in the hope that we’ll see our favourite driver or team bring home the points. We pay to experience the atmosphere and emotion that goes along with it.

Anything else is a billy-bob bonus.

So whether you were supporting Red, Silver, Blue, Pink or Yellow on Sunday…you cannot deny that you witnessed a spectacle of a Grand Prix, brimming with talent and wonder, from the drivers down to the cars.

We don’t need our asses kissed, we just want to experience that emotion.

Because at one o’clock in the afternoon, for a period of two hours, the only thing 150,000 people at Silverstone cared about was 5 red lights and the flapping of a monotone flag.

I hope my gallery does what was a fantastic weekend, just a morsel of justice. Enjoy.