July 2007 Archives

We have all, I am sure, sat in front of a mean winter fire, clutching small beer and regretting not taking an opportunity that would have seen us cruising the Med in our own yacht instead of cruising to work in a 1985 Sierra.
Patio heaters are a bus that’s leaving the station and I’m not on it.
Since the cigarette ban, pubs and clubs have bought them by the thousand to keep smokers warm in the chill night air.
Thus the health fascists and government control freaks have, at a stroke, cranked up the levels of CO2 emissions, while earning millions for heater makers. Well done but obviously no cigar.
I would like to make my fortune from a wake up and smell the coffee spray. A kind of stimulant that stops people behaving like sheep and believing everything , no matter how contradictory or blatantly stupid (the tsunami was caused by global warming) they are told by ‘experts.’
Here’s one to watch out for. Increased mosquito activity is a sign of global warming.
No. Mozzies are not attracted by heat, they like carbon dioxide. If there are suddenly many more it will be down to the increase in patio heaters which they find especially attractive.
Save the whale, smoke indoors.

From now until the kids go back to school don’t be alarmed to see drivers stood at the roadside on one leg. Or poking an eye out trying to touch the end of their own nose. It’s just a drugs test.
We can recreate black holes and live a life supported by technology our parents once watched in Flash Gordon films but it seems the only way to tell if a motorist is impaired by a bit of blow or the painkillers their GP suggested is by getting him to run through morris dancing for beginners on the grass verge.
Nottinghamshire Chief Constable Steve Green said this was ‘a crack down’. Er, yes, not the best choice of words to avoid giggles.
This is, frankly, amazing. Is there really no technology based roadside test? Even an average lawyer is going to have a field day in court defending a man accused of failing to adequately impersonate a seagull or accurately pick his own nose.

It’s official, we are bonkers.
More than five million British drivers confess to a bit of extra marital road rage. Giving it large on The Queen’s Highway.
The Courtesy on the Road report reveals that 16% of motorists admit to initiating a road rage incident. Interestingly, nearly two thirds (65%) of drivers said they felt that music influenced their behaviour whilst driving. The same number believed that listening to certain types of music could cause road rage.
This is called the Mika effect and if ever see him driving along my road I’ll get out of the car and.....

This isn't him, this is Mika Hakkinen

This is the one. Look, his flies are undone

This week I am feeling my age. It’s your fault, Vauxhall.
I’m driving a Corsa VXR and every under-21 year old is staring in rapt admiration for its body styling and street cred.
I, on the other hand, think it looks like it has been involved in a ram raid at Halfords.
At a time when most manufacturers hide their hot hatches under a cloak of, if not anonymity, then slight understatement, the Corsa mimics a little girl who has found mummy’s makeup.
It has driven through Bitz R Us and come out with every spoiler, air dam, silver plastic knick-knack and even a sooo tomorrow triangular tail pipe stuck to it.
All of which matters not a jot. I love it.The VXR is the stuff of ruptured spleens. It is hard-headed bare-knuckled adult driving that should only be sold in licensed sex shops. If you love motors this is why. It is, without a doubt, the sort of car that has the ox-cart tendency asking you to justify your very existence. Tell them to sod off.
Here’s the thing, though. With the irony of the old football adage that just when you learn to play the game your legs go, the VXR demands a high level of maturity. No, really, it does.
If you have mates you call Kenno, Johno and Ricado you will love the way Vauxhall has made the car in the image of a hooker’s fancy dress outfit. On the other hand if you do come from the generation that calls its sons Keanu you probably won’t be able to afford one. Not the £16,000 price, the insurance.

Flirt in a skirt

Yes,your bum looks big in this

Inside the Corsa's knicker draw

Brilliant seats

Last Wednesday there were several met office reports that, because of cold air over the eastern Pacific, we would be in for more than an egg cup of rain.
On Thursday BBC Radio Two issued several warnings that such was the danger of severe weather it might be a good idea to make only really essential journeys.
On Friday the heavens opened and half of Britain gleefully set off to get stuck on the M5.
It beggars belief. Especially the whingers and gobs on sticks complaining that not enough had been done by everybody from the Archbishop of Canterbury to the Kennel Club.
In comparison to many other European countries we have girlie weather. But we drive like clowns in fog, ice and light breezes, go ill prepared for the worst and arrive in deep mid winter without once having checked our lights.
Worst of all we are all so self important that travel warnings are clearly for someone else with a less critical role to play in world affairs.
I fully expect that should the four minute warning ever go roads will be blocked by people heading for the supermarket to beat the cockroaches to the beans.

Geddit?

Remember you saw it here first. After my exclusive, well ish, report last week on the dangers of being mown down by a grass covered car, Ford has unveiled plans to build models out of hemp matting.
Defra, Ford and Hempcore Ltd will put £500,000 into developing the first totally recyclable Rangoon car.
Hemp-based materials will replace panels and be moulded into shape.
Not that this is totally new to Ford. Henry Ford grew cannabis as part of experiments into bio-fuels in the 1930s.
Obviously Golden Gordon, Laird of Glen Britain, will be keen to lay down the law. They may be hemp cars but it will be illegal to smoke them.

A government poster from 2015 warns of the next social evil after road rage

Just a quickie. I caught a story on the news this morning that MPs are wondering if one way to reduce road casualty figures among young drivers is to up the minimum driving age to 18.
Er, no. This will just reduce the casualty figures among drivers aged 17.
There was a good reason, before MPs saw potential votes from easily swayed, immature new voters, that the age of majority was 21. That’s an age when you might just have a head full of something other than Tweetie Pie and lager.
Not that I suggest that should be the driving age. Good lord no, that would only increase bicycle abuse among the young leading to sexual health problems in later life.
The truth is that before a certain age we take more chances. We do not miraculously come to our senses at 18. Otherwise nobody aged 19 would ever get married.
Sorry to say there is no real answer to this one. In our cast iron-breeked, fireproof, spring-heeled teens we take chances. It is the nature of the beast and a great boon to the auto body repair industry.

The girls couldn't understand why they struggled to get a lift wearing the latest teenage fashions

There was a lot to be said for institutions such as going to school, listening, geography, numbers and even the Boy Scouts.
Navigational and map reading abilities are generally so poor many drivers can get lost in their own underwear.
But who cares when there is the modern miracle of sat nav, available through Halfords, Motor World and often from some pikey looking bloke down the pub.
Tom Tom and the like have revolutionised navigation and car crime at a stroke.
However, the human race continually comes up with more inventive ways to prove itself daft as sausage cake. Apparently accidents are being caused by drivers staring hard at their navigator screens before manoeuvres because the can’t relate what’s on the map to the reality of the junction in front of them.
Oh please, suspend my stockings with silly string.
Right, well wherever there is a plant pot there is someone with a plant to put in it. Researchers at Manchester Metropolitan University have developed a video system that plays footage of up and coming junctions on screen so the driver recognises them.
This will clearly enable thickos to work out where they are going. Unless, of course, they are holding the navigator unit upside down.

What a fork in the road looks like. Turn left here.

AS THE school summer holidays approach, breakdown service Autonational Rescue is appealing for motorists to observe a ‘go slow’ which could save upto 70 deaths and 4000 injuries resulting from children being hit by cars each year - Autonational Rescue are keen to point out that these statistics can be achieved through motorists decreasing their normal driving speed by just one mile and hour.............
So, if you could understand that little lot you could save a life. You could also test your sub editing skills.
But Autonational Rescue’s PR dept shouldn’t feel self conscious. Oh hell, yes they should, here’s another one!
MOTORISTS are being told that the countries roads quite simply create a picture of a ‘Blighted Britain’ with the traditional dropped crisp packets and chewing gum being joined by larger and more dangerous objects such as sofas, TVs, bathtubs and fridges; and even more incredibly abandoned cars at the side of main roads or in countryside lay-bys.
Hey?

I’m off for a few days. Mainly to get over the frilly-knickered pansy-pants paintwork of the Peugeot 207CC I have been driving. This car is only short of a huge door sticker saying no men beyond this point. It’s been a week long girly sleep over with extra marshmallow.
I felt less heterosexually oppressed being harassed by men from Manchester in that pink lycra Micra last year. At least that was for charity.
If you want a sub £15,000 convertible and love shopping at New Look this is the one for you.
It’s not very fast but the vanity mirror is brilliant for make-up repairs and there are lots of creamy corners for crunchy vegetables. If this car was a snack it would be Philadelphia cream cheese with a side order of Muller Fruit Corner and an Actimel chaser.
It only has a 1.6-litre engine so is very gentle but you can get a turbo GT version if you play ladies’ rugby. It also does 43.5mpg so won’t hurt the polar bears.
If you love shoes you will love the 207CC. It's cute. Like Toby Maguire. Or Ant and Dec.
It is also a very good, well equipped car in a cutthroat niche that includes the Vauxhall Corset CC.
On the other hand, should your son come home in one of these, thrash him soundly.

This does not do the colour justice but you see how well it would go with one of those funky 1960s style smocks. Not available in male.