Sebastian Vettel certainly sounded contrite.

"I messed up today. I would like to come up with a nice excuse as to why I did it, but I can't. It is not easy right now and I apologise."

And what precisely was his "crime"? Namely, that he disobeyed team orders from his Red Bull bosses during the Malaysian Grand Prix by overtaking Mark Webber, and winning the race. Yet this has quickly developed into a full-blown diplomatic incident, which perhaps tells you everything you need to know about how Formula One continues to exist in a bubble.

Webber, who almost came to blows with his German colleague afterwards, is apparently returning to Australia to surf and consider his future in the sport. It might even be that he walks away from the Grand Prix milieu, such was the depth of his anger at the fashion in which Vettel surged past him when both men had been instructed to preserve their tyres and bring home their cars in a 1-2 procession.

"There's no rewind button and this puts heat on a few people, because it wasn't handled well," said Webber, who has been involved in a string of controversial incidents with his colleague – and finished up on the wrong side of most of them. "I think Sebastian has respect for me and I have respect for him."

Yes, the same kind of respect which politicians have for their "honourable" rivals before lobbing a hand grenade into the opposition chamber.

The trouble is that F1 always ends up looking less like a sport and more akin to a preprogrammed, carefully-choreographed computer game when these episodes transpire. Vettel is the reigning champion, a man who has secured three consecutive titles and who has made no secret of his desire to surpass Michael Schumacher's tally of seven. He started the event on pole position in Sepang and was keen to make amends for a surprisingly underwhelming display in Australia last weekend.

In that light, one can understand his frustration with the fact that, midway through the proceedings, Red Bull officials chose to kill off the notion of the Grand Prix being a true competition and opted for a safe passage to the chequered flag. Why risk two of the world's elite – and highest-paid – performers actually going bumper to bumper in a genuine battle for supremacy when you can rig the outcome? And why worry about spectators being served up a thrilling spectacle when you can burble on about tyre strategies, the heat of the circuit, the (alleged) importance of the constructors' championship, and argue that drivers should be pragmatic in pursuing points?

Those who enjoy a flutter are entitled to believe that competitors in any sport will push themselves to the limit in search of triumph and F1 aficionados deserve better than a stage-managed litany of pit stops and strategies. If anything, there was something refreshingly honest about Vettel's approach. He is a racer, he goes out to race as fast as he can, and his priority is to beat everybody else. He did it. So why the need to say sorry?