Sebastian Vettel doesn't have too many fans.
He was booed on the podium in Singapore, but avoided the same fate after another crushing win in Korea – thanks mainly to the absence of people at a sparsely-attended Yeongnam circuit.
The German is on the cusp of his fourth successive Formula One world title. Yet there are too few people prepared to give him due credit for this astonishing feat.
To some, he is arrogant and ruthless, having overtaken team-mate Mark Webber in decidedly iffy circumstances earlier this year. Either these people haven't noticed that arrogance and ruthlessness comes as standard with every great F1 champion, or they are equally dismissive of the achievements of Ayrton Senna, Alain Prost or Michael Schumacher.
To others, is seen as the beneficiary of outrageous good fortune; the chosen one, coddled by his team and put in charge of by far the best car on the grid. He is the monkey at the typewriter tapping out the complete works of Shakespeare.
But the problem with Vettel isn't that he's no good; it's that he's too good. And he takes part in a sport where driving quicker than everyone else paradoxically makes you very dull.
Most sports have some positive correlation between quality and entertainment.
Yes, you can prefer watching Roger Federer play tennis to Novak Djokovic; true, Swansea are easier on the eye than Stoke.
But as a general rule - if you're good, you're good to watch.
That does not apply in Formula One. Speed on its own means nothing. Most observers could watch qualifying laps by Vettel and perennial backmarker Jules Bianchi and not notice any difference with the naked eye.
What's more, if you're the best you actively set out to make the race as boring as possible.
You qualify on pole position, you accelerate away from the field, you nail your pit stops. If at all possible, you avoid having to overtake anyone at any point. You get in front, you press home your advantage, you minimise risk.
On that front, Red Bull did a masterful job in Korea, making Vettel virtually invisible for 55 laps. His job was to suck the fun out of the race and he succeeded brilliantly. It was genius. Tedious, soul-destroying genius.
The TV coverage quickly (and rightly) stopped bothering to chart his progress, focusing instead on the infinitely more entertaining scraps further down the field.
That's why most F1 fans, if asked who is the sport's best driver, would say Fernando Alonso, Kimi Raikkonen or possibly Lewis Hamilton - all of whom were leading players in Korea even if only Raikkonen will be totally pleased with his day's work.
We see these guys race. They scrap, they overtake, they do more than complete lap after lap at a slightly faster pace than everyone else.
Who provides entertainment? Certainly not Vettel, not on this form. He's far too good for that.
But it does not follow that he is not the best driver because he does not entertain us.
If it really is all about the car, how come Vettel has more than twice as many points as Webber?
That cannot be explained away by so-called preferential treatment, dodgy overtaking manoeuvres or pure bad luck.
Webber got punted out of the race by Adrian Sutil in Korea - but that's because he was in harm's way. The Australian's demise only illustrates the benefit for Vettel and Red Bull of running a lonely race.
It’s true that his relentless pursuit of victory feels a little soulless.
For that, you can blame a sport that has not done enough to encourage parity – either financially, technically or in racing regulations (scrap qualifying and form your grid by reversing the result of the last race – why not?).
You can also blame Red Bull’s rivals for failing to provide machinery swift enough to top the podium.
But you certainly cannot blame Sebastian Vettel. All he has done is get in his car and drive it faster than everyone else.
And isn’t that the whole point?