Let's get something straight right from the beginning: I'm no Albert Einstein. I'm not even as smart as the weird-looking kid in TV's Malcolm in the Middle.

If I was on Cornelia Francis's show, I'd be the one voted off in the first round as the weakest link.

I'm a spanner short of a tool kit, a Scotch Finger short of a Family Assortment, and, well, you get the idea ...

Why do I think I'm dim witted? Well, in the build up to the Clipsal 500, I couldn't fathom why a stack of V8 Supercar guns were faced with having to play motorsport's equivalent to Russian roulette at Mallala.

I'm talking about a dreaded 'P' word. Not 'parity' but 'prequalifying'.

So I must be stupid, right? Because I struggle to get my head around prequalifying.

A question: what do Greg Murphy, Craig Lowndes, and Todd Kelly all have in common?

Answer: all three won races in the last two rounds in 2001, yet all were nominated to face prequalifying before the Adelaide season opener. How can this be?

It's all got to do with AVESCO's franchise system. If you are like me, you probably thought that having a Level One franchise meant that a V8 team owned more McDonald's stores than, say, a measly Level Three team.

I know I'm not Robinson Crusoe in being unable able to figure out the pre-qualifying rules. Working out who deserves to face racing roulette is shaping as AVESCO's biggest challenge in 2002. And I don't envy them.

But basing prequalifying on the team's (or more precisely the franchise holder's) performance, does belittle the role of the driver. It suggests that the car solely governs the results a driver achieves.

I'm not suggesting that AVESCO play a game of rock, scissors, and paper to decide the lucky 25 who win a get-out-of-jail-free card. But for the Clipsal 500, poor Lowndesy, Murph, the Toddler, Cromley, JB, and a bunch of other aces all missed out on proceeding to 'Go' and collecting $200.

And speaking of dollars, how stiff is it to charge punters $15 for the privilege of trooping off to Mallala on a Wednesday. This is meaner than a junk yard dog who has jagged his nads on barbed wire.

Surely your common or garden variety South Aussie fan deserves better than this. At the very least, entry should be free to anyone with a ticket to the weekend's main extravaganza.

Imagine what Brazilian import Max Wilson thinks about all the controversy. The ex-F1 test-driver and CART ace was probably hoping to come to Australia to avoid the bullshit of international motorsport.

It looks like Max was spared a trip out to Mallala, but a poor result in the Clipsal 500 will mean he'll then have to prequalify at tracks he's never heard of, let alone seen. Welcome to Australia, Max. We hope you feel as welcome as the asylum seekers up at Woomera.

A few of my idiot mates reckon that imported drivers shouldn't get a guernsey in our favourite formula. But that's crap, especially if Maximillions brings along a few of those Brazilian babes that hang out at the Rio Mardi Gras.

Actually, there's already overseas drivers competing in the V8s. If you check Murph's, the Rat's and Jason Richard's passports you won't find the word 'Australian' listed anywhere. And then there's the Tasmanians!

In fact, having Max around gives the V8 scene a cosmopolitan feel. And besides, we don't want to labelled as racists. Just racers.

I want to do what all Australian sports fans love more than anything else: watching Aussies beat all comers! Provided, of course, the Kiwis and Big Maxie make it through prequalifying ...