On Sunday night, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. In front of me, more than 40 cars were deliberately smashing into each other trying to cause as much damage as possible, while an audience of hundreds looked on laughing and shouting for more.

I am of course referring to my first visit to the Wimbledon banger racing, a bizarre place, but one I’m sure I’ll be returning to none the less.

I’m sure you know the set-up of banger racing. People buy cars from scrapyards for pennies and then strip them of ‘unnecessary features’, such as glass and seats to make them more crash friendly. Then the driver’s go out with the sole intention of causing copious amount of damage to their own cars and their competitors’.

In the first heat, half of the 40-strong field managed to smash their cars up so badly that they couldn’t compete in races two and three. Of most amusement was the announcer reading out the rules before the race started.

“For the first three laps, no heavy contact is allowed,” he said. “After that, it’s every man for himself.” I’m not sure whether he expected to be listened to, because he most certainly wasn’t.