Please, just make it stop.

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.

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?!?

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

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

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

L

Merry Xmas to all my reader. You know who you are.

L

What’s with this current trend of twats walking around in winter wearing a t-shirt and a scarf? if you’re cold, put a fucking coat on you vain twat.

Still, it does provide me with a handy way of ending your worthless existence by suspending your nice warm neck from the nearest suitably strong protrusion.

L

Another day, another attempt to listen to music on the computer while I drink coffee, catch up with where the world is upto and try to wake up – and another case of iTunes library corruption and another sweary outburst. I must have downloaded over a Gigabyte of updates for this horror over the last year and it’s still terrible.

On the bright side, my iPod Touch is absolutely awesome.

L

Given recent speculation over the issue, I would like to put and end to the rumours that have been emanating from certain quarters recently and go on record as saying that I too do not wish to be considered for the vacant position of England manager.

While it would be an exciting opportunity to manage the national side, I feel that it is not the right time in my career for such an undertaking and I remain firmly commited to my current role.

L

iTunes has just corrupted its internal database again and lost my library and all my synchronisation. This is a problem because my 40GB 4G iPod is just about still working (though it requires regular violence to reset it when the hard drive starts clicking again) and I have about 3 times as much stuff as it can hold, so I have to selectively add things to iTunes so that it only syncs what I actually want on the iPod.

I now have to go through about 25000 tracks (manually, again) to put this right. Maybe it’s a ploy to make me buy a new iPod.

You’d think that with the several terabytes of updates it feels like I’ve downloaded this year that they could manage to end up with something with greater reliability than Amy Winehouse.

Apple, the people’s champion has become the new Microsoft. It’s like watching Labour become the Tories*.

L

(*just for the record I’ve never voted Labour)

As the nights draw in and the shops become frustratingly inpenetrable, I find that the single most unbearable thing about this time of the year is that we will ultimately be expected and indeed forced to listen to Cliff Richard once again.

L