There are a lot of crowing cocks in Bahrain, at least in the Juffair neighbourhood. They were crowing every 20 seconds most of the night. One can only wonder what they are protesting about. Thursday in Bahrain was completely unremarkable. A man with board met us off the plane and we were escorted through the airport. That is very nice, but then they want to make a good impression and money is clearly no object. Manama had its usual traffic as we motored into the city, by way of FunLand, which appeared to be offering bowling and penguins. There were no visible penguins, and no burnt-out cars.

Juffair (pronounced Ju-fire) seems a typical sandy suburb of Manama. It is close to the acronym-laden district where the American (and British) military are secreted. I felt entirely safe there. In any case, as every general knows, one needs to choose your battlefield with caution. You would want to avoid this place because the order “Hold Juffair” is likely to be misinterpreted by the chaps on the front line.

The problem in Bahrain is that no-one knows where the front line is. If you want to go and look for trouble, there is no doubt that you can find it. But in the more glittery parts of Manama, which you do not see on the news, all seems peaceful. The Internet worked after about an hour experimenting and the newspaper headlines from around the world reflect the problems going on in Bahrain (some are more than a little exaggerated), but at the other end of the scale the Gulf Daily News, in particular, is filled with chirpy stories, such as “BIC an “oasis of calm”, “Shaikh Nasser welcomes F1 community to Bahrain” and “The right formula to speed up kingdom’s growth”. The Joe Goebbels Academy would be proud of them. I don’t really know how as journalists they can be proud of themselves.

Last night we were entertained with drinks and nibblies by the BIC people in a very chic place. It was all very pleasant and there were various smooth-talking PR people and former police chiefs on hand to argue the party line. They all looked like they are earning lots of money. We walked to and from the event, but there was nothing to report and dinner in TGI Fridays suggested that we were anywhere but a supposed war zone. When we got back the Internet at the media hotel was in a pickle of conflicting IP numbers and would not work at all.

If the opposition is wanting to make contact with the visiting sports journalists then they have not made any efforts thus far. I did get something shoved under my door this morning, but it was an advertisement for “Gulf Interiors Exhibition” with lots of nice pictures of cheerful paint pots.

During the night there were a few bangs somewhere out in the city. I have no idea what they were.

It is only logical that life would be like this. The circuit spin doctors will tell you this is no different from Belfast or London. In one respect yes. If there is a riot going on in Parliament Square, you may find life completely normal on Piccadilly. The thing is that police and protesters are not exchanging tear gas and Molotov Cocktails every night in Parliament Square. The problem with having spin doctors is that one tends to question anything they say, because you know that they are there for a reason. Thus, if they tell you that a survey has been done showing that 77 percent of Bahrainis are in favour of the GP, one tends to think “But you would say that, wouldn’t you?”

And one has to question the freedom of a place when a visitor with a video camera in his bags has to go off and see the airport security people. With the modern mobile phone we are all cameramen.

The problem remains “what if?” and we have already had one near miss with the Force India incident. One can go and find the trouble, as some are doing, but what does F1 do if the trouble comes to find them?

This morning we rode down to the circuit in a media bus, with a very big sign on the front saying what it was. We counted police cars. Some were very well hidden, as befits unobtrusive policing. Yates of the Yard is obviously giving good advice. The road blocks we encountered near the circuit were well-designed as well. We saw 50 police cars and an armoured car. They were concentrated in the area where the road went through the Shia villages. It was 08.00 on a Friday morning (which is a Saturday in Bahrain). Nothing was happening. Indians, of which there are thousands in Bahrain, were busy playing cricket. We went through a string of roadblocks in the last couple of miles. When we got to the gate there were security police inspecting our briefcases. They were confiscating Snickers bars, all liquids and pens.

“We are journalists,” we said. “We are here to promote your country. If you confiscate our pens how can we do that?”

Pens are obviously mightier than swords here in Bahrain.

No matter what happens, the one question that remains is whether F1 and Bahrain will really gain anything from this weekend, I am sure money will change hands up in the Berniesphere and the blazers in JeanTodtville will breathe a sigh of relief, but what will be the image damage for the sport? Will Bahrain be viewed as being any more peaceful than it is? Will the Bahrainis be convinced that they are in fact “unif1ed”? I am sure there are PR statisticians who can prove or deny these things, but for me F1 will come out of the race meeting with the look of an out-of-touch, money-grabbing sport with no discernible morals and no discernible backbone.

It will certainly having nothing to crow about.