Jenson Button Quotes

All you need to know about racing you can learn from Super Mario Kart.

It's one of the things I love about motorsports - you're always learning, always having to adapt. It's not like tennis, where the rackets might change a bit but everything else stays the same. If you're in motorsport, the formulas are always changing. The regulations, the tyres, the power, the type of engine. It keeps you excited.

It's one of the things I love about motorsports - you're always learning, always having to adapt and develop. It's not like tennis, where the rackets might change a bit but everything else stays the same. If you're in motorsport, the formulas are always changing. The regulations, the tyres, the power, the type of engine. It keeps you excited.

Formula One drivers were like gods to me, growing up.

The sound of that V10, a rich growl that reached right into my soul.

And if you were to say that meeting sponsors and fans isn’t the best preparation for a Grand Prix, then I’d probably agree with you. But it’s part of what we do. Without sponsors and fans you don’t race, simple as that. Either you suck it up, do your job and enjoy it, or you’re Kimi Räikkönen.

What’s the basic way to catch a ghost in Luigi’s mansion: Dark Moon? a) Throw an Ectonet over it. b) Blast it with the ShadeShocker. c)     Stun it with a Strobulb, and then vacuum it into your Poltergust 5000. d)    Trap and store it in a Specter Snare. Name something that you can’t do with Poltergust 5000 a) Roll up a throw rug b)    Run very fast as you are propelled by a jet of water c) Vacuum up spiders and their webs d) Make a ceiling fan spin. These tough-looking spirits just want to give you a hand for your hard work. What do you call them? a) Sly Fives b) Clap Claps c) Slammers d) Slap Happies. Things aren’t always as they seem inside a hunting building. What tool helps you see objects hidden by Spirit Balls? a) Specter-o-scope b) Dark-light device c) De-illusionator d) Goggles of clarity. If you see a piece of furniture or a flowerpot shaking, what should you do? a) Press the X button b) Exercise caution c) Get ready to stun a ghost with your Strobulb d) All of the above. BONUS QUESTION: What does E stand for in Professor E. Gadd? a) Elvis b) Elvin c) Elroy d) Esteban. RESULTS: 0 out of 6 – Very, very very bad! You didn’t only ruin your mission of catching ghosts, but more of them came and they ate your I-scream. 1 out of 6 – Not bad! You did well enough that all of the ghosts moved out of your house. They ate your I-scream before they left. 2 out of 6 – Not too shabby! There ghosts are outside the house, and yup they ate your I-scream. 3 out of 6 – Not bad, but not good either. Let’s say you did manage to get ghosts outside the house, but your I-scream is eaten, and new ghosts won’t see you as a big threat. Get ready. 4 out of 6 – Nice! You must spend a lot of time in Gloomy Manor’s haunted library. It looks like you manage to read besides hunting ghosts. Also, you got an over-Boo notice. 5 out of 6 – Well done! You chase away ghosts so fast that you spend more time reading and improving your knowledge about these little pests. Are you an encyclopedia about ghosts or a human? 6 out of 6 – Excellent! You are the expert in catching and destroying ghosts. You could definitely help Luigi in tackling the

A wing on a Formula One car operates like the wing on an aero-plane except in reverse. So whereas the aircraft wing generates life, the wing on a car does the opposite, pushing the car down to the surface.

Put it this way, the dictionary I'm looking at defines 'pot calling the kettle back' as 'Flavio Briatore labels Jenson Button a playboy'.

He's a very different character when he's not on malaria pills, of course, but we had some cool times together.

...while you´re a pampered hamster and it´s a pretty bloody brilliant treadmill, at the end of the day you´re still a hamster on a treadmill.

So anyway, we took our seats, and I can’t remember how far we’d got through the meal when we became aware of a kerfuffle at the door and turned to see that His Royal Highness Sir Richard Branson was arriving. And he was very, very drunk. Now, by this time we’d already had our fill of Sir Richard, because earlier in the day he’d arrived at the circuit with all the pomp and ceremony of a returning hero. With a bevy of flag-bearing dolly birds in his wake, he’d marched up and down the paddock, waving, grinning and giving the thumbs up to his adoring public, who were, in fact, wondering what he was doing there in the first place. The reason, of course, was that he had a couple of stickers on our car. A million bucks’ worth of sponsorship, which is a lot of money but in F1 sponsorship terms, chicken feed. And yet he was behaving as though he had bank-rolled the whole thing. I can’t say he’d won a lot of admirers with that stunt, but at the end of the day he’s national treasure Sir Richard Branson, famous publicity seeker, so you cut him some slack. It’d be like hating a dog for barking at the telly. They can’t help it. It’s just what they do. What he did in the restaurant was less excusable. However, before I go on, it’s only right and proper for me to point out that he apologised for what happened that night, and even said that he gave up drinking for months afterwards. Not only that, but the press had a field day at the time and no Branson blush was spared. With all that penance paid you might think that he’s done his time and by rights I should leave out this story.

These days I do all sorts of public engagements, and even the smallest thing, like doing an interview or being on stage, gives me the same feeling of apprehension beforehand. Then you do the thing and it feels great and you get off and think, Well that was okay. Why was I bricking that? And that whole parcel of feelings sends me right back to my schooldays. I wish I could get rid of it, but it’s embedded somehow.

In my first or second year I was made to play rugby for the school team. God knows why. Something to do with the first team being off in France. Maybe I was the only boy with two legs available. I don’t know. Either way, I got forced to play rugby, and what I remember most about that experience is the misery. I turned up knowing nothing about the rules (and years and years later, I still know nothing about the rules of rugby), took one look at what was happening on the pitch and thought, You have got to be kidding. Our opponents all had beards. We were twelve, and although I was reasonably tall, I was a proper skinny kid, and not at all built for scrums

And that was the first time I ever had a petrol tank hit me in the balls. When you think about it, it’s daft place to put a petrol tank in such close proximity to the driver’s testicles. But there you have it.

Older and wiser now, I restrict my road-racing impulses to the correct racing line for a roundabout

I’d joined Paul’s team, GKS, in 1995 when I moved into Formula A. It was a great team, where I found myself temporary teammates with Sophie Kumpen, who was dating Jos Verstappen and two years later had a baby with him. In other words, I raced with Max Verstappen’s mum, which is one of those things, like policemen getting younger, that you try not to think about. Later I got to race with Jos and Max, so I’ve got the full house there.