Due to the controversial new Qualifying rules, Wilson narrowly failed to make Pole.
He blamed the shambolic new 'elimination' system, but added that his car's aerodynamics also contributed to his lack of success.
He popped in to a nearby DIY store to buy a 'special tool' so he could 'adjust' his wings and spoilers to improve his performance.
I managed to get W and his Pit Crew out of the Mall just before Security arrived.
With the 2016 Grand Prix Season starting Sunday, I had to take Wilson to the Mall this morning so he could put in some practice laps before Qualifying.
He's pretty confident about his driving, but apparently his Pit Crew (Antony) needs to improve his technique — the Coin Changes are losing valuable seconds.
Antony says he's doing his best, but some of the coins are a bit sticky, so difficult to get into the slot...
In the best scientific tradition, Wilson is carrying out an experiment to test his thesis that all food tastes better when eaten at what he still calls (in spite of evidence to the contrary) his 'Formula 1 Racing Engine' picnic table.
He has prepared two identical Brussels Sprouts, one to be eaten in the kitchen, the other at his picnic table in the garden.
His conclusion is that his proposition is: FALSE.
As soon as he'd rinsed his mouth out, he told me that, wherever they were eaten, Brussels Sprouts taste like (to quote the late Paula Yates) The Sperm of the Devil!
Today is very warm and spring-like, so once the engine had been cleaned up a bit Wilson converted it to a (slightly wobbly) coffee table and invited everyone to afternoon tea.
I've made it clear that it must never come into the house, but told him I was happy for it to remain in the garden as a picnic table.
W put a brave face on things, but I think he was disappointed that his Formula 1 Racing Car Coffee Table bore so little resemblance to the sparkling and pristine chrome-plated one in the picture, but he cheered up once he saw the raspberry and cream sponge Uncle Zoltan had baked in honour of the occasion.
'Nobody wants to buy a Formula 1 Racing Car Engine and find it's really a 1950s lorry engine,' Uncle Z whispered to me, 'so I thought this might cheer him up.'
Over tea, W explained that it was much harder than I might imagine finding Marigolds that would fit an anteater's paws, and he was wondering whether to develop a line of anteater-friendly rubber gloves.
I tried to dissuade him, saying I just didn't believe there'd be much demand — he's the only anteater in this village, after all!
'If this conversion goes well, I could start up a business selling them!' Wilson continued, pulling on a pair of Marigold rubber gloves. 'After I've cleaned this one up...'
Uncle Zoltan emerged from his hive and announced sharply: 'There'll be trouble if you splash any of that oil on my house!' then after a moment's thought he asked, 'Are you sure that's an F1 racing engine?'
W replied doubtfully, 'Well, it might have come from a Ford Transit... you can never be quite sure with eBay.'
Uncle Z stated authoritatively, 'This came from a Bedford Van, my boy. Or possibly an old AEC Mammoth Major — there were a lot of those round when I was a pupa!'
With this he disappeared back inside, returning a moment later to say, 'When you've finished that, you can wash my hive! But use clean water, mind, and plenty of soap!'
