Archive for January, 2008


Ug.

If you think this new Volvo is a bit of a bushpig, just wait until you see it in the flesh – it’s a munter. I don’t quite get Volvo these days – they spent years making solid, reliable and decidedly dull looking cars and people bought them in droves and now they seem to have injected a bit more ‘design’ into the looks of their cars and they just look awful. Saab always managed to pull off quirky and interesting, Volvo never will.

Volvo C30

Anyway – isn’t this just a reworking of the gorgeous old Volvo 480 that set absolutely no hearts or indeed anything else racing in the 1980’s?!?

The gorgeous volvo 480!

I have suspected for some time now that the world has run out of ideas, and this may be all but the final clinching proof. As well as remaking everything that has gone before and received any kind of praise, we’re now repolishing previously-buffed turds too…

L

I was driving along this morning weaving through the usual array of half-awake halfwits on Hyde Road towards Manchester city centre when I spotted a vast Channel 4 poster advertising a new TV programme featuring an array of TV cooks.

(For the record I always try to refrain from calling them chefs partly because ‘cooks’ drags them back down to what they actually are, and partly because it may be more easily misread as ‘cocks’, which is more accurate still.)

Anyway, the point of this rant is that this particular attempt to capture our imaginations was announcing to bleary-eyed commuter and pedestrian alike that the ‘new season’ of this latest cock-manglingly piss-poor attempt at celebrity-centric ball-fondling begins soon.

(At this point I will remind you for no real reason other than a cheap dirty shot at those worse off than me, that I am driving through Gorton, so pedestrians becomes an umbrella term for the vast multicultural melting pot of smackheads, losers, scallies, 16 year old mothers of seven and other whores, most of whom probably can’t read the advert, come to think about it.)

I should have been more outraged by the tenuous concept itself, or the frankly tired, lazy and clichéd artwork, but the only lasting impression I had was this:

“season? season? it’s called a fucking series fer fuck’s sake! winter is a cocking season, as is spring, this is just a few consecutive weeks of a dismal tv programme, and ostensibly a pretty sodding feeble one at that!”

America, would you once again be so kind as to gather up the majority of your dreadful influences on our society and stick them collectively up your oversized ‘ass’ – would those who allow this pervasive nonsense to enter our language and become commonplace please have a word with yourselves.

I would like to oversee the individuals responsible for this advert (or ‘commiddee’ – the collective noun for a bunch of advertossers, I believe) being beaten to death with the collective works of William Shakespeare, or at a push even William Hague.

L

Mini

Over the last few months I’ve realised that the kind of people that drive the new Mini are are either:

a)  Your Mum.

b)  ‘Marketing types’ – go-getters who can all go-get fucked.

That is all.

L

Wipeout

Why is it that you have to own a tea towel for about a year before it becomes even remotely absorbent?

L