Josh’s Blog

The UK government has decided it appropriate to ban Geert Wilders from entering the UK today.  Geert Wilders is a right-wing Dutch politician who created the video ‘Fitna’ which I wrote about on a much earlier date.  The video is a bit of an attack on the Muslim religion and in the current climate where you only need to disagree with a Mosque being built in your back garden without your permission to be branded a racist and for some cleric to declare a jihad upon you and your family, it’s small wonder it’s come to this.

Whether or not you like or hate Islam, whether or not you are Muslim it is impossible to escape the fact that what the government are trying to do here is terribly unjust and as I will argue, it’s also illegal.

In 2006 the Labour government pushed through the Racial and Religious Hatred Act which was developed to prevent people making racist remarks about individuals.

Although the act is rather unclear in parts about what people can or cannot say before Gordon goes and sobs his eye out, there is one rather clear section, 29J.

29J of the act states:

“Nothing in this Part shall be read or given effect in a way which prohibits or restricts discussion, criticism or expressions of antipathy, dislike, ridicule, insult or abuse of particular religions or the beliefs or practices of their adherents, or of any other belief system or the beliefs or practices of its adherents, or proselytising or urging adherents of a different religion or belief system to cease practising their religion or belief system.”

Which means that under this Act Geert Wilders is free to criticise Islam all he likes, he is allowed to say what he wants, irrespective of who that may offend.

I feel this truly is an example of the Labour government using political correctness to further impede on the receding amount of freedom of speech that we actually have.  The government have absolutley no right to deny Mr Wilders entry to the UK on these grounds.

As of this being written, he is on a plane from Amsterdam to Heathrow.  A royal F-off to the moronic Jacqui Smith of the Home Office and her Communist boss in number 10.  Go Geert!

In the mythical land known as Scotland, there are many strange things; a monster in their Loch Ness, a so called parliament and also haggis for example.  Based on some research released today I think it’s fair to only speculate that they also posses some of the most stupid people on the planet.

The new report suggests that if drivers are to take special measures by which they drive in a more “green” fashion, they can save upto £250 per year.

Great?  No, and I’ll explain why.

The report suggests that the average motorist does 12,000 miles a year, so the money you save works out at 2 pence per mile, or near enough £21 a month.  Why on earth would anyone drive like a moronic greenist thinking about how harsh that last gear change was simply to save 2P a mile?

The worrying thing is, however, we do actually have people who are so sucked into this whole greenism scare that they believe it to be a worthwhile exercise.  Yoga is classed a worthwhile exercise, but you don’t see me or the majority of the sane world flexing around in an item of clothing that resembles a marigold glove, do you?  No.

Some other nut job suggests that the worst type of driving is those people that use their evil, evil cars for journies of less than three miles.  He claims that people who use their cars for such journies are more likely to become “obese” or “inactive”.  I’m sorry but what planet do you have to believe you’re from to believe such twoddle?  Birmingham?

The majority of the journies people make to work and back are less than three miles in total, but so what?  We’ve evolved (well some of us have…) as a nation into something that is what might be described as “hi-tech”, yet we have nutty scientists who believe we should be taking a leap backwards and walking to work, or perhaps he wants us to crawl, or ride a horse?  Perhaps we should go back to a fuedal system too, nutty?

Whatever cars people drive, there will be an age old hysteria that it is doing damage to the environment and it is awful conjecture when scientists, people of good intelligence, make such unsubstantiated claims.  When someone can proove to me cars are causing climate change or global warming I will eat my own car, bit by bit.

Until that day, I would respectfully request these people be put in an asylum.

As a fan of the old Skyline and seeing that I hadn’t yet written about the new Nissan GTR I felt it only appropriate that following Nissan’s latest decision to release their new GTR with the V-spec pedigree should get a mention here.

Those of you unfamiliar with the Skyline will undoubtedly be unaware of exactly what these machines can do.  They’re giant killers, they’re Japanese cars that are, what can only be described as, road legal jet engines.  When talking about super Japanese cars, you’ll often hear about the Subaru Impreza or the Mitsubishi Evo(lution) and quite rightly so, they’re the perfect car for running down to Sainsbury’s in.

However, if you want real power that will not only wipe the floor clean with your Impreza’s and Evo’s and then go on to finish the 911 Turbo ahead of that, it simply has to be a Skyline.  Nissan were on to a good thing, the range really kicked off with the old R32, then the R33 and eventually the R34.  All three models were available with the aforementioned V-spec kit, however, V-spec on the R33 was only appropriate if you happen to be a professional racing driver.  The R32 never really looked like anything you’d want sat on your drive and the R34 became more of a geek’s gadget with all the on board computers, G-force calculators and telemetry of one’s drive home that could be downloaded to one’s laptop.

Nissan finished producing the R34 Skyline in 2002, and with that we saw the end of the Skyline legacy, a very sad moment in deed due to the fact that any new Skyline was not promised, only a conceptual idea.

Fortunately, in 2008 the GTR was released, it looks a little like a 350Z, but there are definitely elements of the R33 to my eyes, which can only be a good thing.  Each engine on this new beast from the East is hand built, much like at Aston Martin, and produces colossal performance.  They come in prices at around £50K and for that money you get a supercar half price, but twice as good.  The GTR was, in fact, so fast it has done laps of the Nurburing in Germany in 7 minutes 29 seconds.  A Porsche Carerra GT only managed a 7:28, and an Enzo Ferrari did it in 7:25.

As you can see, then, not only does the GTR look the part, it more than does it too.

Jeremy Clarkson, of whom we’re fans, recently said in his ‘Thriller’ DVD that the GTR isn’t a thriller, and for the first time ever I found myself disagreeing with him: imagine the sheer thrill you’d get out of passing someone in their Ferrari or Porsche for which they’ve paid up to £180K in your £50K four seater car with the shopping in the correctly placed boot.  That’s before we even put our foot down, either.

The old R32, R33 and R34 Skylines truly were magnificent, and seeing the Skyline name die out is perhaps a little sad, but with that gold old silver and red GTR badge in the front, who cares.  If the average motorist does manage to click on to the fact that it’s a new GTR, he’ll only be able to see it for a few nanoseconds before he is well and truly in his dust.

Let’s just hope though, that in this health and safety crazed planet of global warmingists and governments wanting to charge you more money for having a car with an engine any bigger than your kettle that Nissan continue giving them the big GTR middle finger.

Today saw another footballer write off his car.  Shame.  My deepest sympathies to that idiot and I wish him a speedy recovery, or whatever you’re supposed to say to remain sympathetic.

The thing that bugs me the most about this incident isn’t that the footballist closed a public road for a short while, although it would have been my main complaint had I been stupid enough to be driving around places such as Manchester, it’s the fact that the authorities said: “we’re still trying to establish what happened”.

Well, as the authorities in charge of the matter obviously don’t have brain cells, I shall tell them what happened.

There was a young, 23 year old male of below average intelligence (let’s face it: who can name an intelligent footballer?) driving a powerful car through a tunnel being followed by his friend in a Bentley.

To sum up, therefore: young, idiotic man with high powered car racing mate in Bentley.  Saw an opening in the tunnel, thought it was a goal mouth and muddled up his footballing with his driving and thought he could score a “goal”.

Before I get criticised for saying young people can’t drive high powered cars, allow me to point out that I’m all for younger people in high powered cars, afterall, I’d much rather see a Pagani being driven by someone who can easily get in and out of it, as opposed to someone with gout.  It’s just an intelligence-ego factor.  It’s a common problem with most males, but I would suspect (not being a shrink) that it’s most dominant in footballers.  My theory works along the principles that footballer has an ego, he therefore incorrectly assumes he posesses a brain cell.

I’m not even that bothered about the Ferrari, it’s a simple V12 620BHP that you will see your average peadophile or electronics shop owner driving.

One thing to note for Ferrari, however: how dare you make a safe car?

That’s it.  I’ve had it.  There are far too many cocks on Britain’s roads today driving those stupid, ugly, coffin look a like automobiles the Germans throw at us each year: the Audi A3.  I really have had enough of the people that drive them.

I should make clear at this point that it’s not the car I have an issue with, I’m sure it’s a perfectly reasonable “entry level luxury car”, just like a meal from McDonald’s is a perfectly reasonable excuse for food.

A3 drivers are stupid.  They don’t know what the point or purpose of indicators are, they refuse to understand that the objective of a motorway isn’t to get as close to the person in front of you as is physically possible and they furthermore reject the idea that they don’t have priority over any other piece of traffic they so choose.  Blithering idiot comes to my mind, but I fear that would be offensive to any monkey, terrorist or Birmingham person the title is deservedly given to.

Moreover I feel their unintelligence is only demonstrated by the fact as to what they’re paying.  Let’s take the 2.0 FSI model for an example.  It’s the most popular one so therefore it’s the one thats likely to think they can get up your exhaust pipe at 110 MPH while sat on their mobile phone and fornicating themselves with bolt guns.  So, the model in question costs approximately £22,000 which makes it sort of middle of the range, average sort of A3 for the money.  Why on earth would you spend £22,000 on something that really does look like an aerodynamic hurse?

Some might question me here and say that 22 grand is alright money for the car you get, with all the extras that Audi choose to throw in with their stool of German-ness, but, let’s look at it like this: it’s either 22 grand to ruin your social integrity every time you drive it, or you could spend the money on American hard gums and let your teeth rot.

Bring on the cavities, please.

Audi claim that their A3 boasts a “better quality interior”, but a better quality interior than what exactly? Baghdad? Tesco? Jade Goody?  I’ve had the misfortune of being sat in an A3 (with a balaclava on of course) and they’re really nothing special, in fact it suddenly lead me to think “gosh, the pound shop even sell car fittings now”.

The worst thing you might buy an A3 for, of course, is the fact that they boast the car has “lower C02 emissions” which, of course, you would only care about if you happen to support Stalin at Number 10 at the moment.  If you believe the emissions you produce should be reduced, do the Western world a favour and kill yourself.

All this is shocking reading, of course, but the worst part is that according to Audi themselves, in 2006 they delivered 905,100 cars world wide.  Terrible.  They claim the USA to be their biggest export closely followed by the UK, but considering the population and size difference between the UK and USA, it means we probably have the highest pollution of Audi’s anywhere in the world.  I’m sorry to have to deliver this news, but it should be known.

If you divide 905100 by the four main cars Audi produced in 2006: A3, A4, A6 and A8 you get 226,275 which means that roughly 225000 people in this world drive A3’s.  Meaning we have almost a quarter of a million super cocks in this world.  These aren’t either the sort of people we might like to hate: bankers, politicians and drug dealers as they all listened better at school and earn more money.  A3 drivers, then, are average people with the ’super cock’ gene: they’re total prats.

I think the time has come to get some bumper stickers printed, warning off these people.

Together we shall unite, and slay the evil vampire culture of A3ists.

This week I was given the unfortunate task of having to drive from where I’m based, Warwick, to a place in the centre of Birmingham.  The route is a simple one and, on paperat least , it would appear to be quite pleasant; three motorways, a dual carriageway and then a couple of inner city roads.  The actual trip is something far from the pleasant imagination of open motorways.

Firstly, I had to join the M40 at Warwick which unless you suffer from a very serious condition of being a carrot isn’t that difficult.  After joining the M40 at junction 14 you’re expected to sit at 50MPH through the SPECS style speed cameras.  They’re Gordon’s latest cash cow get rich quick scheme tofleece the motorist, they basically take one picture of you as you pass the first camera, irrespective of your speed, then another as you pass the second.  They then see how long it took you to drive the set distance and from that calculate your average speed, if it exceeds the prescribed limit in this case of 50MPH, you’re going to get a Fixed Penalty Notice fromWarwickshire County Scam-cil.

These SPECS are put there to protect workmen from an extra 20MPH of speed.  I mean, come on, if you hit a workman at 50 he’s as dead as he is at 70.  In actual fact if you do hit him at 70, he’ll be dead quicker and therefore eases his suffering, so I don’t see a need for these cameras at all.  More to the point, however, I made this journey at 7pm, and we all know roadworkists work from 11am until about 11:15, when it’s time for their first of many lunch breaks and then clock off at about 3.  It’s just sheer, unadulterated profiteering there is absolutely no requirement for these cameras, they haven’t even got a lane closed.

Oh, and between me and you, if you switch lanes between the SPECS for example, you pass the first camera in the third lane and the second in the first lane, they’re unable to give you a ticket.  A mini flaw in the system that even the manufacturer acknowledges.

Anyway, once the SPECS are no more, you can resume motorway speeds.  My journey subsequently lead me onto the M42, which means not only do you have to contend with huge traffic levels, you also have to deal with the worst sort of people in the world:Birminghamers.

The device I have on my dashboad that alerts me to speed cameras went absolutely nuts when I drove between where the M40 meets the M42 and where that meets the M6.  As soon as one alert was over I would get a fresh one, and because the genius people who designed the new version of this road have introduced variable speed limits, you simply can’t do anything about it but sit on a motorway at 30MPH, for God’s sake.

The M6 was identical to the M40 - SPECS all the way and a stupidly imposed limit of 50 MPH.  For what, I hear you ask?  Bloody roadworks that were occupying a small section of the hard shoulder.  It really is beyond a joke, the people who are in charge of roadworks obviously believe they have such a great amount of importance they feel it necessary to disturb everyoneelse’s travels, even at nearly 8 o’clock of an evening.  I imagine these people to be very short, bearded like Father Christmas, have one leg shorter than the other and be married to a man named Florence.

After escaping the cash cow fields of the M40, M42 and M6 I found myself in downtown Basra, I mean Birmingham, for which I can use no other word to describe the place: appauling.  It really was, nearly every other car had a brake light out, or a wheel missing, or the driver was missing some vital component and bleeding to death.

When I reached my destination a woman the size of a whale stepped out in front of my car, obviously she’d been drinking like a fish but all she seemed to be able to slur in her Birmingham accent was “surry maaate”.  To think this place wanted to be European capital of culture.  I can imagine the judges asking the Birmingham representatives: “so what culture does Birmingham posses?” and after a few minutes of thinking, they reply “well, we’re the only city that can guarantee that the person walking behind you is either a rapist, a drunk, a mugger, a stabber, a shooter, a paedophile or a vicar”.  How awful.

My route home was taken through some back roads with no speed cameras what so ever, even though it did burn more fuel I really don’t care.  I’m sane, not green.

In 1997 Lamborghini was sold to Audi.  On the surface, it seemed like a good idea to mix a bit of the German common sense and reliability with the Italian passion and sheer madness.  In recent times, and below the surface it seems not only to have been a bad idea, but possibly the downfall of the greatest supercar maker ever.

I’m not going to try and hide my bias here either: the Diablo is my favourite car ever.  It always will be no matter what anyone brings out ever.  Put in perspective; I would rather spend the night with a Diablo than I would Pamela Anderson.  The Diablo, in my eyes, is God and is so much better than my wildest dreams.  At this point I must excuse the school boy style rantings, but that’s the whole point of a supercar, isn’t it - to make you feel five again.

Lamborghini’s of late have been, frankly, dull.  The Gallardo is more of a Ferrari 360 than a Lamborghini, it even lacks “special” doors, they’re no different to those found on a Fiat Punto, or even a conservatory and looks no more sensational than a lobster.  While the Gallardo does boast some quite good performance specifications, it’s been spoiled by what some may see as a good thig: common sense.

The interior is well laid out, the parts fit together, you won’t have enough debris at the end of a journey to hold a car boot sale and the air conditioning is more of a cyclone than an asthmatic duck blowing down a straw.  Why oh why must they have made a car that’s good?  You even have room for your legs and arms should you be above average height.

With Lamborghini of new summed it, it’s time to remind ourselves why it is exactly that Lamborghini have hit the fan like the proverbial droppings.

The answer is quite simple really.  The new Audi R8 is nothing more than a cheaper Gallardo with an Audi badge, and the Gallardo was never anything more than a super-duper Audi TT, which was never more than a rich hairdressers transport, or as I reffer to them: “Tonka Toys”.

So, there you have it.  Lamborghini of new is nothing more than what Audi have been putting in their TT’s since whenever that dreadful day was that the Tonka Toy invaded Britain’s roads.  Well, not quite - the thing is, Lamborghini started off making something Audi drivers will have a good feeling of: tractors.  If you know of an Audi A3, then you’re well educated with regards to farm equipment, the only difference is the A3 was for posh farmers, perhaps ones that the EU can’t put quota’s on.

Lamborghini, on the other hand, made the rough and ready vehicle with a gear box you needed to be a body builder to operate.  It’s not, therefore, that Lamborghini have become bad cars, it’s just they’ve lost the essence through the mutiliation of the Germans and their common sense.

The good thing is that the price of a Diablo is nothing compared to what you might pay for the Audi trash you have to buy brand new.  You can get a good Diablo VT for £60,000 which may seem like a lot of money, but it’s either a Diablo or a new Jaguar XJR or a fairly basic BMW 7 series.  If you’re looking for something with an engine as big as the Diablo, you can get a good Bentley (an oxymoron, I know) for 60K and they have 6.75 litre engines.  Let’s face it though, if you have sixty grand in your pocket and you choose anything other than a Diablo, you’re obviously from Greenpeace and you should spend the money finding out how to turn your farts into a drink, so you can reduce methane in this world, which is obviously very important.

With Comrade Brown forever going on about how he’s “saving the world” from the financial situation as it is, and car salesmen dangling from a rope on the big BMW badge on their forecourt, I think it’s time to face the music and concede things have got pretty bad.

This has become ever more evident with a recent competition unveiled by one of the biggest names in used car sales.  They are offering readers and customers the chance, and I kid you not, the chance to win a Vauxhall Insignia for a year.  Not only have they become so potless they’re giving away a Vauxhall, they’re only letting you ‘win’ it for a year.  So not only will you have the shame of driving around in Vauxhall’s replacement for the car who’s name should be a swear word: the Vectra, you’ll also not be able to smash it into something, because at the end of the year a man with a low-loader will come and take it from you.

Maybe if Vauxhall offered this as a service with all their cars the credit crunch wouldn’t seem so bad for them, and their salesmen could afford to buy from M&S this Christmas.

Now, you may assume that this is just Josh being mean about a hard working, good old fashioned car maker.  Possibly it is.  I’m more willing to suggest it’s because I saw the Insignia before it’s release; back at the 2008 London Motorshow.

I sat in the car for a good few minutes, taking in everything there was to take in about the car.  The main thing that struck me was the fact that there seemed to be no point to this car.  It had the feel of the early 2000’s Audi A4, the interior was one of the worst on a ‘luxury’ car I’d ever seen.  It was worse more so than that of the Volvo V40 which really did look like it had been put together by a three year old and a blind dog.

After a few seconds of looking around the interior, it struck me that the entire thing had been build from core components from ‘Poundland’ and material that could have been found on some dish cloth in Tesco’s and for some reason it had the smell of methane.  Rolls obviously take their leather from the cow’s neck, Vauxhall obviously head a bit further aft for their hydes.  I suppose the main thing about the inside of the car was that it felt very cheap and tacky, it was almost like making someone a prawn cocktail that uses eels and vinegar as a substitute.

The outside of the car, sadly, is no more of a positive story than news your wife has HIV.  It really is bad, it reminds me somewhat of the styling on the BMW 5 series, and the latest 3 series.  Only worse.  Much worse.  There is a shape to it, but then again there was a shape to Barry White and let’s face it, he wasn’t a particularly good looking chap.  The Vauxhall badge isn’t that apparent when you look at the car and I think it’s only more evidence that Vauxhall are trying to loose the image cast upon them like shackles on a pirate created by the V-word, but perhaps not being able to see the fact the car tailgating you is a Vauxhall might lead to one or two less depression relation suicides in this country every century or so.

The good points to the car can be summarised rather quickly.  It’s spacious, that’s for sure and you’ll comfortably be able to transport three adults with you.

As I said, summarised very quickly.  So back to bashing this Euro trash:

The driving position is less than optimal and visibility is restricted quite heavily by the awful dashboard and if you’re more than three feet tall the struts of the chassis which run up the side of the windscreen like on every car will get in your field of view if you try to look anywhere other than straight ahead or at right angles, unlike most other cars.

I couldn’t help thinking that if you want a reasonably priced family, good sized car, why on earth would you pass the Ford dealership and not get a Mondeo.  Like the Insignia, the Mondeo is available as an estate or regular saloon.  The Ford will be cheaper to run, more reliable and generally better to drive.

If you’re buying the Insignia because you think the 2.8 V6 engine is fast, then one of two things is the problem: one, you’ve obviously never heard of the Ford alternative, and, two: you woke up this morning thinking you were an orange.

I’ll give credit where it’s due here and be bold and say the Insignia is better than the Vectra, but it’s still much like saying “congratulations you’ve only caught syphilis - the best of all sexually transmitted infections”, I predict these cars won’t sell too well.  Partly due to the fact the market is none existent at the moment and partly because the competition and it’s rivals are so much better at what this car is for: a comfortable, more upmarket family car.

Sorry my first post in a few weeks had to be about a Vauxhall, their competition did make me chuckle though and with times as they are, I suppose that’s got to be a silver lining.

Until next time, then;

Josh

In an extreme dose of boredom I was searching around the Internet for various bits and pieces about supercars.  I stumbled upon one website that was all about supercars (you shall remain nameless), it must be a fairly popular one as it was displayed in the top three of several searches I did via Google.

Anyway, after deciding to venture down one of the cyberlinks I ended up on a website that for the most part atleast looked like it was run by a man, or some men who knew overly geeky details about cars.  I suppose these chaps could have told you the serial number off the engine block of your Ford Cortina simply by looking at one of the stitches on the seat.

So, we’ve established that these people knew what they were talking about.  As my boredom deepened, I found a survey about supercars, so I decided to take part.

The questions started off to be very reasonable, asking things such as “what do you consider to be the best looking supercar ever made?” and the list of options comprised of things such as the Ferrari 250 GTO and the Lamborghini Diablo, a personal favourite of mine.  Then, there were the utterly stupid suggestions such as the Buggati Veyron which, from a side perspective atleast, looks like a fancy toaster from John Lewis’.

Down and down the questions went, until eventually I completed the survey and got presented with the results of other people who had taken the interview too.

I was literally appalled by the fact that something like 19% of respondents had said that “value for money” is important in a supercar!

Yeah, right.  You’ll tell me global warming is true next.

Seriously though, 19% of people who know something about cars said that a supercar should posess value for money.  I would challenge anyone who says a supercar should be reasonably priced with a simple question: “did you forget your meds this morning?”.

The whole point of a supercar is the fact that it’s the thing you hung on a poster in your bedroom when you were six.  It’s the car of your ultimate fantasy.  It’s supposed to make you feel like a little boy everytime you see it and that you need a new set of underwear everytime you hear it roar.  It’s meant to be out of this world, it’s just not meant to be ordinary.  We had Superman and in due process we have super cars, I doubt you could hire Superman for a few hours if you were the middle management type for £10 an hour, could you?

No you bloody well couldn’t, so forget it and go back to working for BT.  We may well have a credit crunch, but that by no means justifies making a supercar anymore feasible for those that couldn’t possibly get one in the first place.

It’s very sad that by some, atleast, the good old supercars are held in no more of a higher regard than a Seat Ibiza or a BMW 3 Series.  That’s what England lacks more than anything at the moment, the ability to still have some distinction, stop buying out banks and perhaps get a grip on things.

For now atleast, the true petrolhead will be able to smile at the fact that nearly everyone in the civilised world knows that the Bugatti Veyron is the fastest production car in the world and that it carries a price tag of £910,000, let’s see you buy one of them, Mr Debenhams Manager.

England’s first motorway, it runs from London to Leeds and is a major North-South motorway through England.  It connects to many other motorways and is used by many people every single day.  Every single one of them are blithering, cabbage smelling idiots.  Every single one of them, and I’m pretty sure about this, wakes up in the morning and, for a few seconds at least, is confused as to whether they’re human or perhaps tomato.

Firstly, there’s the sheer number of cars that sit in the left hand lane and insist on doing 47 MPH, meaning not only are they being incredibly dangerous, they also cause HGV’s to overtake them in the middle lane, meaning theres only one lane left for the rest of us.  In Josh’s Britain, however, this would be dealt with by those useless Highways Agency officers simply shooting the drivers in the back of the head, then pushing their cars down an embankment for a farmer to sell for scrap.  It’s not me just being a speed freak, but under normal circumstances there are absolutely no reasons whatsoever that makes it acceptable for a car to be travelling at 50 MPH on an unrestricted motorway.

The next thing you get are the dicks in the Audi’s and the dollys (young female, usually blonde and driving a car the size of a sugar cube) sitting in the middle lane.

Why?  Why on earth sit in the middle lane?  I’m not on about sitting in the middle lane when there’s a lorry a mile ahead so they know they’ll have to move out at some point, but a totally clear lane for as far as the eye can see.

I was driving back up the M1 this weekend and on the Matrix was a sign that read “Don’t hog the middle lane” - probably the first intelligent thing I’ve seen from the highways agency and at that exact point, I kid you not, I saw a “dolly”.  So, you’re thinking, Josh flipped her off and that was that.

Well, not quite.  I pulled along side her, got her attention and pointed to the Matrix sign.  Being blonde it took her a few minutes to click on to what I was getting at, then after her brain had melted several times and was in the process of evaporating, she did something miraculous: she understood and moved over to the left hand lane.  I was gobsmacked.

So, what I suggest the intelligent motorist does is invest in a sign that reads “don’t hog the middle lane” that you can flash at the dick in the Audi, or even the average dolly and they will understand.  It looks like the Highways Agency finally made something even the most primitive members of society can understand.  It’s fantastic.

Apart from Highway officers shooting the idiots that do 50 in the head, they should also shoot those fools that use their brakes.  There is absolutely no reason whatsoever to use the breaks of your car under normal circumstances when driving on a motorway.  It infruiates me beyond belief, if you’d been paying attention and had read the motorway properly instead of how you’re going to fondle your goat, it might not ruin it for the rest of us.

The other main problem, of course, are the police officers that patrol it.  The main traffic unit presence between Luton and Coventry belongs to my least favourite of all the police forces.  Yes, those blaspheming trolls at Northamptonshire’s constabulary.  But I’m afraid that’s another story.

Sorry Nikki.