A more than worthy successor to sixties stars Mike Hailwood and Bill Ivy in the ‘let’s have some fun’ stakes was a cockney sparrer born just off Holborn in the centre of London. Barry Sheene became an even greater household name than either of his two heroes – and not just because of the world championships he won in the middle of the seventies.

Sheene attracted more tabloid headlines than any other motorcycle racer before or since; his late-night liaisons with a series of extraordinarily attractive models made him ideal media fodder; together with Henry Cooper he was the face – and body – of Brut; he was a ‘jack-the-lad’ character idolised by thousands of young men. He popularised the sport in a way which his great predecessors had never quite managed to achieve.

As the son of famous two-stroke tuner Frank Sheene, it was inevitable that young Barry would become a racer. His early machines were Bultacos on which he won British Championships battling with riders like Chas Mortimer.

But his career really took off with the acquisition of an ex-works Suzuki 125 formerly ridden by Stuart Graham and the world championship beckoned. Together with soon-to-be-brother in law Paul Smart, he toured the European circuits with a Transit van towing a second-hand caravan, five bikes and two mechanics. By the sound of it, good times were had by all.

“I think Barry would have won the world championship in that first year if it hadn’t been for all that totty,” said Smart. Good times, especially at the post-race parties, were had by all.

Eventually, the circus rolled in to Imatra, scene of the Finnish Grand Prix, some 250 kilometres north of Helsinki close to the Russian border.

The circuit was on narrow public roads, skirted by trees and the odd telegraph pole, and the facilities were primitive even in those Spartan times. The town had one large hotel and not much else. Riders and their entourage had to accept that the things of beauty were the lakes and trees... oh, and tall, leggy blondes with blue eyes!

It was all just about bearable, with one exception. The toilet block in the paddock was a wooden structure overhanging the lake. The cubicles were open on three sides and users sat down on holes cut in a plank, made their deposits and swiftly left with barely time to hear the splash.

Appeals to the organisers were seemingly ignored, the paddock mutterings grew but it was not until the chequered flag had gone down for the last time on that Sunday in August 1971 that somebody decided to do something about it. That somebody was prankster Sheene, who had won his race, egged on, or was it vice versa, by mechanic Don Mackay.

A jerry-can full of two-stroke fuel was tipped over one of the wooden walls but as the culprits did so and, fortunately, before a match could be struck, cries of protest could be heard from inside as Finnish rider Tepi Länsivuori emerged, hurriedly pulling up his trousers.

Then the bonfire of the bog was lit and blazed merrily while the paddock populace, who were by that time in party mood, cheered, danced and drank more Finnish beer. The local fire brigade, manning a device of World War II vintage, were not amused.

“Barry certainly went up in everybody’s estimation,” said Smart.  "Everybody, that is, except the organisers and the FIM. He got away with it."