Steve Cooper: On the Limit

In Formula 1, you don't just put the knife in. You stab it in someone's back, twist hard and grin. That way you achieve maximum agitation with minimum effort. And, in F1, you're either holding a knife in your hand or clutching one in your back.

So, after a winter away from the hustle and bustle, it didn't take long to spot the knife-wielders wandering the grassy Melbourne paddock. Down at Spyker you could hardly miss Colin Kolles and trusty lieutenant Ian Phillips as they plotted the downfall of F1's customer-car squads.

Kolles is an intriguing figure; possessing a Cheshire-Cat smile and a brooding yet mischievous personality, he's an inscrutable assassin who you can't help but warm to. And, while his attack on Super Aguri and Toro Rosso may have been overtly public, Kolles doubtless has many weapons hidden up his sleeve.

Indeed, trying to gather information from him proves extremely tricky, as the following taxing conversation demonstrates:

"So Colin, are you now going to arbitration?"
"Yes, this is how I see it."
"Why are you unhappy with Super Aguri?"
"We found it is the same car as last year's Honda."
"You believe it is exactly the same car?"
"Yes."
"You met with Bernie this morning. What did he say?"
"That only constructors belong in this championship."

Kolles looks at you intently, with a gleeful glint in his eye and a wobbly smile that you're never quite sure whether it will break into a scowl or a grin.

At least Lewis Hamilton's smiles appeared genuine at McLaren. But dig a little beneath the surface and you saw that the youngster wasn't merely the smiley faced ingenue, happily accepting his lot on his grand prix debut.

During a team press conference on Saturday, Lewis's deftly batted-off answers quickly told you that Fernando Alonso would have a struggle on his hands this season. So while Hamilton basked in the reflected glory of his achievements, Alonso looked pallid and nervous, studiously disinterested in the kid sat next to him.

It was a far cry from his many king-of-the-castle appearances at Renault, where a tanned and grinning Spaniard would roll into the motorhome in shorts and a garish bandana. Now, suited-and-booted in McLaren silver and rocket red, the world champion looked distinctly ill at ease. And Hamilton seemed cheekily delighted to be given the opportunity to unsettle his team-mate with a subtly conducted war of words.

Of course, this kind of mental tennis has been played out between Kimi Raikkonen and Felipe Massa for several months as both rally for top dog spot within Ferrari. You only needed to clock Massa's guarded nonchalance on Saturday afternoon - when he donned the biggest, blackest sunglasses in order to watch from the sidelines as Kimi cruised to pole position - to realise that the Brazilian's methodical attempt to dominate Ferrari has already started coming unglued.

On Sunday evening, a joyless Massa quickly toured the Ferrari garage saying goodbye to his mechanics. He chanced upon Kimi, who was sat celebrating with friends and management at a table in the paddock. Circulating the crowd, he avoided any eye contact, briskly shook the Finn's hand, turned on his heels and walked away without saying a word.

You could almost see the invisible daggers hanging from Felipe's back as he walked silently out of the paddock. Hidden as usual behind his impenetrable shades, Kimi just sat and smiled impassively. He'd just brought a gun to a knife fight...