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It's all a load of bollocks, quite frankly

It’s not a Mini adventure, it’s a gargantuan pile of horse manure

A proper Mini

Literally millions of years ago, the British Motor Corporation launched the Mini. It was launched as the Austin Seven Mini and the Morris Mini Minor. Later versions would be launched such as the badge engineered Riley Elf and Wolseley Hornet, which were Minis with a hideous grille and a shoebox blue-tacked to the rear. Later we would see Cooper versions. In the late sixties BMC became British Leyland and the Mini Clubman was launched to replace the existing Mini. It failed.

In the early 80’s, BL launched the Metro to replace the Mini. It failed as the Mini outlived it. Nothing, it seemed, could capture the magic of the original. However, whilst the Mini (and especially the old Clubman and 1275GT) remains a firm favourite car of mine, we must remember the fact that the Mini lived on well past its sell-by date. True, it was technically a brilliantly packaged car. Front wheel drive and a transverse mounted engine it was far ahead of its time. It handled like nothing else and took on corners with consummate ease.

However, it was cramped, cold, noisy, bumpy, rusty and unreliable. In a few words, a little bit rubbish. And yet I still love the Mini so. About five years ago I managed to borrow a mid-sixties Cooper S, and it was without a doubt about the best fun I’ve had with my clothes on. Certainly one of my favourite drives, it was across the North Cliffs Portreath to Hayle road in Cornwall. Its steering, suspension and sheer eagerness gelled and this thing came alive. Certainly my daily hack (a nearly new Punto Sporting) seemed desperately dull in comparison. I’d subsequently driven 80s Minis and I got out with the same Cheshire Cat grin I’d gotten with that Cooper. To an extent I got the same sensation when having a go in an MG Metro.

I urge you to take an old Mini out, if you can get the bloody thing started that is. Chances are, when you eventually do, something will then break, the headgasket will go and the clutch will implode. But once all of these things are fixed and you’ve reattached the rotten subframes that fell off in the night, you will think why hadn’t I done this before?

All this preamble is supposed to get to a point, though as is my want, have managed to avoid it like an Anthony Gerrard penalty. I love the old Mini to bits. I even love the much-maligned Clubman. Hell, I’m even quite liking the early Metros these days. All of their flaws I’m prepared to overlook for the grin on my face I get when I drive one. The new BMW Minis though?

I’d like to drop a Top Gear piano on those, as much as I would a Marina. I drove a Works Cooper, and couldn’t understand the fuss. Sure, it handles nicely. Sure it goes around corners nicely, but there are lots of other cars that do so better, the old Mini being one of them. Sure it’s popular, but then so is the Clap and I’m not suggesting that’s good. It’s not a packaging miracle, like the old one. My Punto is smaller on the outside and bigger on the inside. It’s more comfortable too. The switches in my 12 year old Fiat feel more substantial and less flimsy than in the new Mini.

There are a few similarities to the old Mini, namesake apart. Size isn’t one of them, they’re bloody huge. Being cramped inside, however, is. The one thing BMW have managed to engineer in to the new Mini is its propensity to rust like the old one. And to burst into flames. And to break. They’ve also managed to make the supercharger sound like the whine from the sump-mounted gearbox from the old Mini. So, if I want a car that is cramped, fun, whines like a banshee and is likely to rot or fail as I’m driving along, I’ll either have an old Mini or stick with my Italian stuff.

Look at the size of that fucking thing compared with the original. This is the Mini "Cuntryman"

Just don’t get me started on these Mini spin-off models, the Clubfoot and the Cuntryman (sic). Oh bollocks, I got myself started. Oh well. Why make the already big Mini bigger? And uglier? The Clubfoot is a new interpretation of the old Countryman Mini estate, which essentially was a Minivan with windows and seats. It’s dreadful. Then there’s the current Countryman which is the modern interpretation of a bucket of sick. It’s bigger than bloody Redruth and it looks so bad it could scare children and scar them mentally for life.

BMW have launched a “Coupe” version of the Mini, which basically looks like someone stole The Stig’s helmet, melted it in the oven and the remnants poured over the car to create the roof. Now they’ve launched a van version, called the, erm, Clubvan. I wonder if they can do a GPO special edition finished in grey?

I’m just wondering how low BMW will now stoop, as they’ve passed scraping the bottom of the barrel, gone through the tarmac and are located somewhere within the Earth’s core. It smacks to me as they are in a situation where they’ve run out of ideas. There’s only so far you can go with retro design, and BMW have gone above and beyond the realms. Perhaps they’re now thinking of a reboot of the Mini pickup? Perhaps a Mini MiniMetro that will look a bit like the old Metro but will be the size of an articulated lorry. Every week there seems to be a new model in the line-up, a new concept. What’s next, the Mini NCC1701? It has to stop!

But it’s not just the car that I’m pushed away from. The owners, or at least those I’ve met, all have this air of superiority about them. Arrogance and smugness. People who seriously need to get over themselves, and their Mini. Estate agent types.

So, this was the story of one of my favourite cars and one of my least favourite cars. For me, the old “proper” Mini will always be a legend. Whereas the new, cheap (actually fucking dear) knock-off Mini will always be a bit of a leg-end.

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March 9, 2012 Posted by | Motoring, Rants | , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Customer Satisfaction… Is it worth it?

I work in the wonderful world of customer service. Working as a service manager in a car dealership is not really an ideal job to do but someone has to do. No one volunteered and I got stuck with it. Which basically puts me in the firing line for every single customer that has a complaint or worry regarding their car. Which is great, but when a car is one of the most expensive purchases you will ever make, people get very personal when something goes wrong.

I’ve been sworn at, shouted at, threatened with bodily violence and even semi-propositioned many, many moons ago. He wasn’t even that good-looking! Yes, you did read that correctly, HE. Anyway, there are some funny moments that occur, because customers can be really stupid. People you would swear were normal, intelligent people come across as completely retarded motherfucking bastards. Anyone who reads this and is a Facebook friend of mine will recognise these as nothing more than my regurgitated Facebook statuses. I’m that comitted to being original, oh yes!

Firstly, when ordering parts for your car, wouldn’t you think it would be a good idea to know what car it is? Conversation over the phone with someone this morning went along the lines of:

“I need a CV boot for my Alfa Romeo”
“Ok sir, what Alfa is it?”
“Ah, don’t know. It’s petrol!”
“Do you have a registration or chassis number so I can look up the parts?”
“Uh, don’t know it….”

Only minutes before that I was greeted, in person, by what can only be described as a moron. His went like  this:

“I’ve got a warning light on in my car”
“Ok sir, which warning light is it?”
“Well, I don’t know, it’s not on at the moment”.

Last week I was greeted by this little gem: “Do you sell Alfas, yeah?” Now I would have to think about that one long and hard. There is a huge great Alfa Romeo sign outside the showroom. Lots of Alfa Romeo servicing posters in the windows. Lots of Alfa Romeos outside the showroom. Lots of Alfa Romeos inside the showroom. Lots of Alfa Romeo brochures. Lots more Alfa Romeo signage inside. Quite clearly, then, we are a Toyota dealership.

My favourite one, however, dates back some years. A scooter owner contacting me to get a progress update on his mopedy thing.

“Hello, it’s me, I’m calling about my bike!”
“Ok, you, which bike is yours?”
“Oh, erm, it’s an (insert bike manufacturer here)”
“Very good, sir, we are a (insert bike manufacturer here) dealer and have about 50 of those, which one is yours?”
“The blue one”
“Ok, sir, that narrows it down to 46”
“It’s got red on it as well”
“Ok, that’s 42”
“Got some sport decals on the side”
“Ok, still 42. What did the bike come in for?
“It was broken”
“Ok, so we’re down to 15”
“What is the vehicle registration number?”
“Don’t know”
“What is your name then?”
“John”
“And the surname?” and without word of a lie, there was a thirty second pause as if he had to try to think what his name was.

I will update with more when I think of them. Have a nice day!

 

 

July 11, 2011 Posted by | Rants | 1 Comment

>Ice Ice, Baby

>First and fivemost, I’m sorry about the title but I’m too lazy on this particular post to bother with a decent title, and given this opening sentence has taken more effort to type than actually thinking about a decent title renders me a complete and utter cretin. Secondly, I would also like to apologise for my Facebook status recycling. Hey ho.

However, I would like to appeal against my cretin status as it would seem that I am less of a cretin than the cretins that I encountered on the road today. And henceforth I shall refrain from using the moniker of cretin and go for something less, well, cretinous.

Just what is it about this bloody country that makes people shake, cower, panic and just generally lose all trace of common sense as soon as the weather turns bad? Especially when you mention snow or ice or hail or sleet. Look – there’s an avalanche! Oh, no, wait, no panic averted – it’s a snowball! Now today I needed to do something trivial, which if you must know was drive to the shops. Today, however, it snowed and sleeted. To a Cornishman in November this is relatively unheard of. Any Russian person would laugh their socks, thermal underwear, coats and hats of at our nation panicking at what only can be described as a very minute amount of snow compared with their winters.

Not only do the Brits panic at the first sight of that white stuff, they lose all capacity for logical thought and suddenly forget how to drive. Now common sense would dictate that you shouldn’t rev your car hard in the snow or ice as it just puts too much power to the driven wheels causing them to spin and lose traction. Many road users cannot see this fact thus making the road conditions worse for the next wanker that comes along to spin the wheels, lose traction thus making the road conditions worse for the next wanker that comes along ad infinitum.You should never slam your brakes on either as that will make you skid, lose traction, run over a spaniel, ruin Nigel and Priscilla’s freshly treated fence, hit their house and die.

Anyway, back to the task in hand, which was a journey to the shops. Generally a stress-free journey of less than 2 miles from door to supermarket car park on any ordinary day. But as you’ve already figured out (one would hope) that today there was some white stuff on the ground. Now I won’t say I’m the best driver in the world as I’m no where near good enough. I do, however, have bouts of common sense when needed. Today for example, starting off in second gear down my road I wondered how many arseholes I would encounter not expecting it to be half as many.

Near Miss number one – George and Mildred of indeterminate age and origin in their hearing-aid Beige Rover from 1990. Now normally George and Mildred do not drive over 5mph when the weather is fine, and today it was taken to extremes when they were travelling at the same figure as the outside temperature. Added to the fact that every snow drop that fell they decided to brake for, and not gentle braking either. Hard braking and you could see the car slither like a slithery thing. So I decided to pull over to give them a head start because I would have ended up either crashing or losing the will to live. Or both. So this gave me time to eat a three course meal, compose and record a classical symphony start to finish and to complete my qualifications for quantum physics.

Second Near miss – Kev always buys a horrid little car called a Citroen Paxo, and always has to spend the net income of a small country modifying it to make it uglier, heavier, slower and noisier. A set of phat (sic) wheels ensures that it handles like a terrier with no legs. However, Kev seems to think that you can drive it at 67mph on all roads in all conditions. As well he did today, hurtling around a corner at a speed he wouldn’t be able to handle in fair conditions, obviously turning the wheel and going straight on then overcooking it on opposite lock and nearly careering into a bush. And not the kind of bush he really wanted to be in either.

Then just after this, encountering people who cannot do anything other than try to pull away in snow in first gear, engines revving to the maximum and wheel spinning all over the place not getting anywhere. What is wrong with you fucking retards????? Crisis averted and I finally managed to get to the shops and do what I needed to do, which surprisingly was shopping. Came back, car loaded and to travel the 2 miles back home.

There is a narrow, steep hill which I travel every day with no problems. However it is not a main road and never gets gritted. Earlier this year in the snow, my poxy little 1.4 Fiat Stilo managed to get all the way to the top overtaking a useless driver in a Land Rover Freelander and an equally useless driver in a Renault Megane. Today I did the same again, and the car again was a Land Rover Freelander. Bearing in mind the Land Rover is a purpose-built four wheel drive, and my car is a two wheel drive hatchback. The difference one of the drivers could read the conditions and drive appropriately.

So, what’s the general message from this pile of inane drivel? Learn to fucking drive Britain! Or at least, use your common sense and drive as the conditions dictate. Stop trying to drive flat out and making the road more polished and as shiny as Kojak’s head. The end.

November 27, 2010 Posted by | Rants | Leave a comment

>Wake me up before he off roads

>Poor old George Michael, poor little soul, has had a hard time of late. Not only being arrested for some lewd acts and cruising and what not, but now he has finally been arrested and will be sent to jail.

Not that it’s taken long, he’s been had three times now for driving whilst under the influence of drug use. Stoned to you or me. That’s three times more than you or I would ever get away with and that’s what pisses me off. If we did it, we’d be put behind bars and banned from driving for 602 years. That is because we’re not famous. Unlike Georgie Boy who is famous for, other than his music, many dealings with the law. And he has the uncanny knack of getting away with it every time. Well, until now that is.

He’s going to jail. But don’t get too excited, he’s going to jail for eight weeks. Only eight weeks, for his third offence, third lot of recklessness and danger to other people, not to mention the writing off two perfectly good cars.  He was also ordered to pay a £1250 fine, £100 costs and a £15 victim surcharge. Now if you are not familiar with a victim surcharge, it’s basically a £15 levy added to any court costs and goes to the victim. So, the corner shop that George Michael drove into has been destroyed, but be rest assured the owner will receive the princely sum of £15. Yay, let’s all get stoned to celebrate. And drive into someone Else’s shop so they can get £15 to help their flourishing business.

According to the highly polished, accurate and informative news service MSN.co.uk (sorry, that should say the greatest work of fiction since Shakespeare) Gorge Michael has been banned from driving for five years, but that will no doubt be reduced to three minutes. He was also “in tears after being sentenced” and was also reported as stating “I can’t believe this has happened to me!”. Oh really, so you expect to drive whilst stoned and destroy someone’s shop and livelihood, and not expect anything to happen about it? You’re a bigger arse than I first thought.

You’re getting off (didn’t he do that before?) lightly dear boy, with your fortune you can afford those expenses and to pay £15 to Apu and his Kwik-E-Mart with consumate ease. Just think, the eight weeks will be over before you know it. It could be a lot worse. Now stop whining, crying and throwing a tantrum just because you’ve done something wrong and have to face the consequences. Get your giant egotistical head out of your arse and get on with it.

I’ll end this with a picture from one of my favourite websites Sniff Petrol. I need not say anymore. Except, sorry Sniffpetrol for plagiarising your caption for my title. Well, I’m not sorry, but I kind of needed to sound sincere. Worked, as you can see.

September 15, 2010 Posted by | Rants | Leave a comment

>The X Doctored

>So here we begin another season of X Factor, so another season of brainwashing nonsense. But hang on, it has caused some controversy. Can this be true? Two of my Room 101s have come together to create a complete and utter farce really.

Now, don’t get me wrong, the X Factor is a show I frequently ignore and really want nothing to do with. Even with being a big Paul McCartney fan, I still didn’t watch it when he appeared on it. But then this morning, to my amusement, there was the news headline “X Factor accused of doctoring singing voices”. But I had to take a look. Sour grapes, some might say. Until, that is, a spokesman for the TV “show” admitted that the vocals for particular contestants have been enhanced to make the “singing sound better”. So, what we are being told is basically the producers of the show are using Autotune. Which is a cop out way of covering up the fact that some of the people in this corporate conveyor belt of so-called talent cannot actually sing. They are then told that they are through to the next round because they are “really talented”. Which clearly they are not because their own singing voices have been enhanced with electronics to make it palatable. And that voice that has caused the controversy is quite clearly synthesized.

I’m still not sure what annoys me more. The X Factor? The smug arsehole Simon Cowell? Or is it the fact that it has sunk to an all new low that we are literally listening to robots singing. Singing is a talent in its own right. It’s an art form, whether you are pitch perfect or not quite. But using Autotune at a live concert, or even on a TV talent show that relies on people singing, has rendered both outputs pretty much useless. It certainly cannot be classed as a truly live performance. There are plenty of vocalists out there that can’t hold a note particularly well or there are those that don’t have a particularly good intonation. Bob Dylan couldn’t sing for toffee. Johnny Cash is another that wasn’t particularly tuneful. But both thankfully did not feel the need to hide behind bloody Autotune. True, Johnny Cash is sadly no longer with us, but Dylan still is and is still touring and going strong without the use of enhancements. But in any case, they had more than just singing. They had emotion, charisma and the knack to pen a good tune and a good set of lyrics as well. I use those two examples as Simon Cow Bell decreed that neither Johnny Cash nor Bob Dylan would ever make it past audition stages of X Factor. Which is fine because I’d rather watch five hours of the legendary Johnny Cash (who had the so-called X Factor long before Simon Cow Bell was a twinkle in his dad’s eye) than an hour of electronically enhanced, charisma-free conveyor belt twaddle, who excepting a select few, have done nothing since winning. So when you are queueing to electronically download the Christmas number 1 contender, remember the singing may be done by a robot and it will be as electronic as your download. So go buy something else.

Everyone is entitled to their own opinions and everyone has different views as to what entertainment is, and mine certainly isn’t watching a TV talent show selling live singing that is in actual fact only slightly live with electronic enhancements. Some people like it, which is fine. Just don’t include me in it. I’m just happy that in these times there is some light relief – rock legends Iron Maiden topping the album charts with their latest album The Final Frontier. Bruce Dickinson, a singing force to be reckoned with and not an Autotune gizmo in sight! Bliss.

August 23, 2010 Posted by | Rants | Leave a comment

>Room 101

>Having recently watched a very amusing episode of Room 101 with guest Dara O’ Briain, I thought it would be an idea to do my very own Room 101. Which got me thinking what do I hate? What things do I hate more than others? And which can I give a more reasoned argument for throwing the damn things into Room 101?

My biggest bugbear is reality television, which ironically, doesn’t have a lot of reality in it, nor is it worth putting on television. The main culprit being Big Brother, which thankfully now is coming to an end, but that kick started the whole “genre” if you like. I do not want to sit in a room watching people sitting in a room. Nor do I want to see them doing stupid tasks, nor do I want to see Z-list “celebrities” trying to make a comeback because they’ve not got any talent to do it off their own back, or politicians rolling around pretending they’re a fucking animal. We have Sky News to report that. And with that you can take back your Simon Cowells and Davina McCalls. Give them some place to go, like, ooooh, I don’t know, Room 101. My own choice but I’d put the Z Factor and Britain’s Not Got Talent or whatever it’s called in there as well.

Carrying on from the Television theme would be Music Television. Some of the music they play is, fair enough, pretty good, some of it pretty average and some shockingly bad. MTV started out as Music Television – that’s what it stood for. Now all MTV seem to show is some nasty little documentaries about spoilt little brattish 15 year old American (and now, Dear God, British) kids wanting this, that and the other for their 16th birthday. Get over yourselves and accept the wrist watch and DVD that you don’t even deserve. And then there’s more “documentaries” about spoilt, brattish, supposedly grown-up American adults. Which are worse than the 15 year olds! I would love to banish all these programmes to 101. But also the channels themselves. My music collection itself I think is pretty eclectic with such findings as Beethoven, Debussy, The Beatles, Iron Maiden, Gustav Holst, Lady GaGa, The Offspring, The Prodigy, The Lightning Seeds, Crowded House, ELO, Sophie Ellis Bextor, AC/DC, Queen, Goldfrapp, Black Sabbath, Volbeat, Cat Stevens, Fleet Foxes, Beach Boys, I could go on. But I listen to all of it. I’m quite happy to see what videos are out at the moment. But I don’t need to see the same limited play list on six different channels at nearly all the same bloody time. Can’t we just have one channel that plays all the new stuff and one that plays all the old stuff? If not, send the whole bloody lot to Room 101 and have done with it. And definitely get rid of Kerrang as they’ve forgotten what good rock music is. Kerrang will, before long, go to the nearest corner and start crying if it’s not careful. 

My next submission would be texting language which I find, well, unfathomable. And people that say LOL rather than laughing. That’s just plain wrong. Or Stupid. Or both. You decide, send your answers on a Adidas hoodie. Lol really should stand for Look Out! Looney! However, I digress as usual. I can understand the use of texting and shortening words as each text message costs you money and can run into 2 or 3 texts if you use the Queen’s English. However, there is no excuse when you are typing your status in Facebook or e-mailing. E-mails are free and limitless. Fcebk stats updts wn typd lk tis iz jst stpid n svs abt 2 lttrs pr wrd (in English that reads Facebook status updates when typed like this are just stupid and saves about 2 letters per word) so it is not really worth it. And as I demonstrated to myself, it takes more effort to type in text speak or “chav” than it does to type the correct words. Moving on to the whole “LOL” (my personal favourite is a parody which does make me laugh courtesy of Bill Bailey – ROTFLMAOYSTT, which is Rolling On The Floor Laughing My Ass Off, Yet Still Typing This). What is the point of putting LOL on the end of a sentence that does not require it. I shall give you an example:

“I woke up, went to the local grocers and purchased some food. Chuckled to oneself en route to the local grocers.” which would be translated into:

“Wk up wnt 2 shp n bt sm fod lol!”

Now the problem with both of those statements is neither task is chuckle-worthy or indeed LOL-worthy. Now, perhaps if you were to throw in a random slant, for example:

“I woke up with a flash of inspiration, thought I’d dash along on a flying cloud of sarcasm to the local grocers and purchase some ill-tempered mutated seabass in which to kill next doors pet earwig.”

Only then with some off the wall, random spin thrown in is it even remotely chuckle worthy. And even then it is only for other people to decide whether it is funny. Not You!

Among one of my pet peeves and one I would certainly have great pleasure in banishing to Room 101 is lateness and waiting around. It drives me absolutely insane when people are late for something and can’t keep time and I have to wait. It may be a minor thing but it is infuriating. Sadly, though, I am never likely to banish this particular peeve as I am married to Jayne Renowden. She was late at birth and has been late ever since. She who works on Mediterranean (whenever, so as long as it is after Siesta) and Cornish (dreckly my ‘ansum) time combined.  To get ready takes her 5 to 10 working days. Bless. Anyway, this won’t go into Room 101 so moving on.

Next on the hit list is the good old Toyota Prius. I have written so much about this car already, and with a restraining order from the CEO of Toyota, this means I will not say any more on the subject. But it is going in Room 101 – absolute end of.

Which neatly brings me onto Bono. How apt. And other celebrities that try to do good by getting mere mortals like you or I to dip into our pockets to Save The [Insert Trendy Charity Cause Here] rather than dipping into their pockets themselves. But mainly Bono because he’s a loud mouthed, obnoxious twat. And If I can add Bob “Give Us Yer Feckin’ Money” Geldof, Phil “Every other artist is crap and I’m a genius” Collins, the bloke from The Police – wotsisname – you know – String and finally Kanye “I can barely rap and really can’t sing so I’ll use Autotune” West. Please throw them all in Room 101.

Which again brings us onto something else – Autotune. The thing that disguises your voice and is also used to correct the pitch when you hit a bum note. I quite like it at times if it’s deliberate. For example I do every now and then like to listen to the Electric Light Orchestra. Or to those not on the moon, ELO. Jeff Lynne made quite a fair amount of usage of a Vocoder as it was known. Deliberatley. What I can’t stand is when acts use it live to cover up below-par vocals, which annoys the hell out of me. I’d rather hear a bum note or two than pitch perfect sounds just like the record vocal perfection.  That way it’s live, and if I did want the pitch perfect sounds like the record vocal perfection, I’d save myself the money on  a concert ticket and just play the album. And also when rappers use it on every single song to cover up the fact that they can’t sing. Get the hint mofos, stop singing, stop using Autotune and keep on rapping. But preferably to people other than me. At the expense of my ELO CDs, to Room 101 please.

N-Dubz. Need I say anymore?

Ignorant people. When I say hello to you, I expect at least a response back. If I hold the door open for you, a “thank you” would be nice.  If not, then I just hope the next person will just slam the door shut in your face. Preferably when it’s monsoon season when you are carrying sixty eight carrier bags full of various commodities you’ve just purchased.

For now that will do. No doubt there will be Volume 2.

July 18, 2010 Posted by | Rants | Leave a comment

>useless blah blah celebrity blah blah joins blah blah blah Range Rover blah bla… WHAT??????

>Right, so straight in at the deep end. Victoria Beckham (yes, two words I’d never EVER thought I’d type, write or even want to strain myself to speak) has been given a job at Range Rover. For an undisclosed sum (read she will earn more in a week than you or I will earn in two years no doubt) she has become a “Design Consultant”.

Firstly, I would like to know what on God’s Earth is she actually going to “consult”. Damn, balls, I promised myself I wouldn’t use quotation marks this time. Buggered that up already there! Anyhoo, the “woman” has decreed that she knows absolutely diddly squat about motor vehicles, and hasn’t a clue as to where to start in her new given job role. Now, how she got the role in the first place is a totally uninteresting one. She was asked to drive the brand new Range Rover Evoque Sport Utility Off Road School Run I’ve Only Got One Kid But We Shall Take Them In This No Matter What Vehicle a few feet for its launch, but responded with the fact that she doesn’t do such trivialities any more. So what have the mad bastards done? Because she won’t drive the car a few feet, they’ve given someone with all the style and personality of a pencil sharpener the job of Design Consultant. So now she will drive the car a few feet.

I mean for what it’s worth they could have got Elmer Fudd to move the bloody thing. Hell, I would have driven it on to the launch stage for nothing. Especially if it meant that Posh (my arse) Old Spice didn’t get the job. However, if it were a Range Rover of old it would have needed a team of literally several people to push it on to the stage because the bunch of Brummies manufacturing it would probably have forgotten to connect something vital up and it wouldn’t have started.

I’m just still a little bit in shock that someone so talentless has earned so much money for doing not a great deal – something which has been written into her new job at Range Rover no doubt – not a great deal. And it’s not limited to Victoria Beckham either. There are so many “celebrities” (darn it) around now that I have absolutely no idea why they are indeed famous. True, some of them have tried singing, to not much avail. Some have even had a stab at acting. Again, not with particularly convincing results. Others are famous for no other reason than being, well, famous. It’s that I despise. Well, actually the whole celebrity culture thing I’m no big fan of, but being famous with no talent whatsoever (yes, that means you Victoria Beckham) irritates me more than something that irritates me a great deal. 

So, what are we to expect from the next Range Rover? I can see the next phase of development now. A thumping V8 motor, excellent off road ability, unrivalled thirst for petrol, oh and purple silk seats with yellow embellishments and swarovski crystals in the display panel. But will it be limited to Range Rover’s parent company Land Rover? Will Fiat take on Rod Hull and Emu to take the helm of Ferrari’s engineering and development department? Although, news just in, I have been reliably informed Rod Hull and Emu are currently in charge of Royal Mail and is set to stay there for the haul. So, it looks like the job will go to the second choice Paris Hilton.

So, can we leave the car design to the, erm, proper car designers, and leave Victoria Beckham to do whatever it is she does. Can someone remind me what it is she does? Please? I’m struggling here….seriously, what does she do? And an open plea to management of modern companies – celebrity endorsements are worthless. As are hiring “celebrities” (bollocks, done it again) to do a job that they’ve really got no idea about. Yes, Land Rover, I’m talking to YOU!

July 4, 2010 Posted by | Motoring, Rants | Leave a comment

>Man to get Asbo for brushing teeth too loudly

>Well, actually that hasn’t happened yet, but no doubt before long it will.

We wonder why the country is in the economical state that it is in. Perhaps this news headline will go someway to explaining it. “Woman faces trial over noisy sex” on the highly informative and accurate news source MSN. A neighbour complained that a nameless woman called Caroline had been having “loud sex romps” with equally nameless husband Steve.

First off, this neighbour had complained that this noisy wife (a natural thing for a woman, anyway, not just in sex), was far too noisy to which she was issued a Anti Social Behaviour Order. An ASBO that bans her from having noisy sex. In her own home. So, what springs to mind here with Victor Meldrew living next door to Caroline and Steve is probably firstly, Victor isn’t getting any. Secondly, they’re married and still having “loud sex romps”. It’s a bonus surely that they’re married and STILL having sex, and Steve must sure as hell be doing something right for Caroline to be “overly noisy”! Thirdly, Women are noisy – end of, and the better for it. Who wants quietness? And why should a woman suppress her natural urges to express herself in the bedroom? Or indeed for that matter, why should a bloke? Lastly, Vicky Mildew needs to stop putting his glass and ear against the wall – he may hear less. And if you’re that bothered by the noise, do what most neighbours do and turn up the TV.

However, because Caroline could not partake in “quiet sex romps” (damn these pesky “quotation” “marks”), she is now going to face trial at Newcastle Crown Court. Which to me is the biggest waste of taxpayers money I can possibly think of. Not to mention petty and just downright pathetic that it has been allowed to get to trial in the first place. Even an ASBO is pushing it. In the whole scheme of things, it’s a bit silly really.

Now I know my neighbours for instance are the noisiest bunch of bastards I can think of, especially the children, forever shouting the deliciously chavvy names of “Bailey” and “Chelsea” at the topper most of their voices. Should they have ASBOS? No. Should they face trial? No. Should the cretin that decrees it acceptable to operate his car horn at 7AM every bloody morning have an ASBO? Or face trial? No, because, even though it’s fucking annoying, it’s still quieter than the birds that chirp incessantly outside my bedroom window.

So by that token with Caroline going to court, perhaps the birds should also. And at the same time, perhaps I should also be given an ASBO for “playing” bass guitar badly, and playing Beatles, Queen, Iron Maiden, Lightning Seeds and Volbeat records at really high volumes over the weekend.

This news headline comes on the same day that I read another news piece. Spa, an 80 year old race circuit in Belgium, which was around before most of the surrounding housing areas has been declared too noisy by the EU. Or rather when they have classic vintage racers around, the penpushers have been out with the noise meters declaring which vehicles can and cannot race due to “noise pollution”. Things such as vintage Ferraris, Porsches and Jaguars cannot race because they are “too noisy”?????

Stop the world, I want to get off.

June 29, 2010 Posted by | Rants | 1 Comment

   

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