Formula E’s “Influencer Gamble” in Jeddah: From Viral Chaos to a Marketing Masterclass That Silenced the Critics

In the high-stakes, precision-engineered world of motorsport, there is usually very little room for the absurdity of the internet age. We are used to seeing elite athletes, trained from childhood, piloting machines that cost more than most luxury homes. But the winds of change are blowing through the paddock—specifically, the electric winds of Formula E.

Around a year ago, the series dipped its toe into the influencer waters by putting YouTube titan MrBeast in a car. It went… okay. It garnered about 49,000 views and a few polite nods. But in 2026, Formula E decided that polite nods weren’t enough. They wanted noise. They wanted chaos. They wanted the eyes of the internet generation.

So, they did something that sounds like the punchline to a bad joke: they took 10 content creators—ranging from fitness gurus to Minecraft streamers—and unleashed them on the Jeddah Corniche Circuit. Yes, that Jeddah. The fastest street circuit in the world, lined with concrete walls that unforgivingly punish even the smallest mistake.

The result was an event that swung wildly between comedy, terror, and surprisingly genuine racing action. It was a spectacle that many purists wanted to hate, but as the dust settled and the view counts skyrocketed into the millions, it became impossible to deny: Formula E had just pulled off a masterstroke.

The Cast of Characters: Senor Frogs vs. Quickstars

The setup was simple yet brilliant. Two teams, captained by Sidemen legends Calfreezy and Vikkstar (who wisely chose to stay safely on the pit wall), faced off in a duel format.

On one side, you had Team Senor Frogs, a motley crew led on-track by Chip and Behzinga (Ethan Payne). They were joined by WillNE, a man whose chin has been compared to David Coulthard’s but whose driving skills were an unknown quantity; ArthurTV, a streamer known for… well, being there; and Izzy Hammond. Yes, that Hammond. The daughter of Top Gear icon Richard “The Hamster” Hammond.

Opposing them were the Quickstars. This team featured the silent TikTok juggernaut Khaby Lame; “career advice” guru Max Klymenko; fitness creator Tuvok12; Dan Brownie; and automotive creators Amelia Hartford and Yuka.

The premise was absurd. Putting people who make their living from ring lights and algorithms into high-torque electric race cars is a recipe for disaster. And yet, as they rolled out for practice, the narrative began to shift.

Qualifying: The Good, The Bad, and The “Wooden Spoon”

Qualifying offered the first glimpse into the disparity of skill on display. While some treated the throttle like a suggestion, others attacked the track with genuine aggression.

Chip and Behzinga immediately established themselves as the ones to beat for Senor Frogs, leaping to the top of the timing sheets. Behzinga, in particular, seemed to channel a newfound focus, ending the session with the fastest overall time. It was a far cry from the chaotic energy usually associated with the Sidemen.

On the other end of the spectrum, the struggle was real. Max Klymenko, perhaps overanalyzing the career trajectory of a race car driver, found himself a staggering 38 seconds off the pace. To put that in perspective, in Formula 1, being one second off is a crisis; being 38 seconds off is practically a different time zone. He wasn’t just slow; he was inventing a new category of slowness.

Khaby Lame, famous for his simple solutions to complex problems, couldn’t quite “life hack” his way around the chicane, finding the walls of Jeddah a bit more complex than a TikTok trend. Meanwhile, WillNE managed to spin his Mahindra, proving that a square jawline doesn’t provide aerodynamic stability.

The “Inevitability” of the Hammond Crash

Then came the moment that felt scripted by the gods of irony. The quarterfinals saw Izzy Hammond facing off against Yuka. The pressure was on. Izzy, carrying the weight of a surname synonymous with both speed and catastrophic crashes, pushed hard.

Too hard.

“Deep, deep into the wall,” the commentary noted as the yellow flags waved. It was a significant shunt. The car’s front end was crunched against the unforgiving Jeddah barriers. Thankfully, Izzy walked away unharmed, but the internet didn’t miss a beat. The comments section exploded with references to her father’s infamous history of destroying cars. It was a harsh reminder that physics doesn’t care about your subscriber count. However, it also provided the dramatic hook the event needed. It wasn’t just a parade; the danger was real.

The Quarterfinals: Comedy Meets Competition

As the debris was cleared, the racing resumed with a mix of hilarity and intensity.

Khaby Lame discovered that “straight-lining” a chicane is much faster than driving through it, a strategy that unfortunately doesn’t fly in professional racing. This handed an easy win to Behzinga, who cruised through to the next round.

In a surprising turn of events, Amelia Hartford put up a valiant fight against Chip. Despite qualifying sixth compared to Chip’s third, she laid down a respectable lap time, proving that her automotive content isn’t just for show. Chip had to work for it, snatching the win only in the final sector. It was the first sign that we might actually get a competitive race.

WillNE, the Minecraft representative, faced off against ArthurTV. In a twist that no one saw coming, WillNE actually looked… competent? He clocked a time 12 seconds faster than Arthur, securing his spot in the semis.

The Grand Finale: A Legit Nail-Biter

By the time we reached the final, the field had been whittled down to the two heavyweights of the event: Chip vs. Behzinga.

This wasn’t just a content creator clash; it was a genuine duel. The Senor Frogs had already secured the team victory thanks to the accumulated points (and the Quickstars’ lackluster performance), but personal pride was on the line.

Behzinga went out first. His lap was solid, a 1:28.6—the fastest of the night so far. The pressure shifted entirely to Chip. As Chip launched his Jaguar through the first sector, it looked scrappy. The car twitched, the lines weren’t perfect, and the split times showed his advantage slipping away.

But motorsport is about mental fortitude. As the lap progressed, Chip found his rhythm. He attacked the final chicane with a bravery that belied his amateur status, flooring the throttle on the exit. He crossed the line just four-tenths of a second faster than Behzinga.

It was a photo finish that would have been exciting in any racing series. For a group of YouTubers, it was electrifying.

Why This Matters: The Numbers Don’t Lie

It’s easy to be cynical about events like this. It’s easy to roll your eyes at “influencers” invading sacred sporting spaces. But the numbers tell a story that Formula E executives will be reading with glee.

The previous year’s attempt with MrBeast garnered a respectable but forgettable 49,000 views on the highlights. This event? The livestream sat at 5.8 million views shortly after airing.

That is an exponential increase in eyeballs. It introduced millions of young viewers to the sport—viewers who might never have tuned in to watch a standard E-Prix. It humanized the cars, showed the difficulty of the sport, and provided entertainment value that transcended the racing itself.

Even the most skeptical observers, like the narrator of the source video, had to admit defeat. “I went into this video expecting to be a sarcastic little sh*t… but in the end, actually fair play, Formula E. That was pretty bloody good.”

The Verdict

The “Influencer E-Prix” in Jeddah wasn’t just a stunt; it was a proof of concept. It proved that you can mix pop culture with motorsport without completely disrespecting the engineering. It proved that watching amateurs struggle (and occasionally succeed) is just as compelling as watching pros dominate.

Did we see the next Lewis Hamilton? Probably not. But we saw Max Klymenko improve by four seconds to win a “Wooden Spoon.” We saw a Hammond crash a car and walk away laughing. We saw a Sidemen showdown that came down to the wire.

Formula E has been searching for an identity for years, often stuck in the shadow of Formula 1. In embracing the chaos of the internet, they might have just found their overtaking lane. If this is the future of motorsport marketing—loud, chaotic, and millions of views strong—then start your engines, because the YouTubers are here to stay.