One reason why Bernie Ecclestone feels so ideologically wedded to Donald Trump lies in their shared devotion to the 'art of the deal' - even if the US president-elect owes the intellectual copyright for that concept, as with much else, to his ghostwriter. Deals are their elixir, their power-sustaining joy, often to the exclusion of any long-term thinking.

Ecclestone, indubitably, is the most prolific deal-maker in the history of professional sport, having signed contracts worth $25 billion AUD over his career. But it is time to ask whether Formula One, the empire that the 86-year-old has moulded into a one-man gerontocracy, is merely a castle built on sand.

By degrees, the fabric of the sport is fraying. From 2018, the Malaysia Grand Prix will disappear, the country's government having decided that it provides an inadequate return on a $91 million-a-year investment. Moneyed Singapore could soon follow suit. Before long, the only places prepared to bankroll these races will be Middle East plutocracies or despotic regimes, rather like Ilham Aliyev's Azerbaijan, desperate for a fig-leaf of legitimacy from fast cars.

Often, for such a sophisticated enterprise, it is ineptly marketed. In the British Grand Prix, it has the best attended event on Britain's sporting calendar, attracting up to 140,000 on race day. And yet outside Silverstone, it can be difficult to discern that it is even happening. It is testament to the deficiencies of the sport's wider promotion that the National Football League makes a louder noise out of regular-season gridiron games, creating a miniature Mardi Gras on Regent Street, than F1 can manage with its greatest cash cow.