WHY DANIEL RICCIARDO IS STILL… SMILING
Parked jauntily in an eerily pristine Cotswold village, the liquid-yellow, wide-boy Clio V6 looks amusingly disruptive. I’m half-expecting locals to round the corner with pitchforks, when Daniel rocks up. A little late, no biggie, he apologises, grins and everyone relaxes a notch. I’d heard his personality was infectious, but this is ridiculous, the man is a ball of positivity even at 9am, pre-caffeine. We take a drive to the Enstone factory, where he’s due in an hour’s time.
TG: WHAT SHOULD WE CALL YOU? DAN? DANIEL? HONEY BADGER?
DR: Whatever you like. I mean just, Daniel. Daniel works, but dickhead also works.
TG: WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THIS? EVER BEEN IN A CLIO V6?
DR: No, I have not. I’ve definitely seen one before, but probably in England as opposed to
