Would You Buy A Used Car From This Man?

I’m taking the tube from Paddington into work less often these days. I kid myself that it’s a financial and fitness driven decision. You know, walk into work, save on the tube fare. But the Ugly Truth is that I can’t bear to look at the advert that’s currently placed opposite my usual spot on the Bakerloo Line platform.

Just look at that smug git. I mean, good god, if that’s not the most slappable set of features this side of Arcturus then I don’t know what could match it. But for sheer jawdroppability, you have to read the copy. Go on, I’ll wait. Because it raises a question.

For some reason, the company who are happy to put their name to this abomination, Car Giant, seem to think that their corporate values are best summed up in a figurehead who will happily dump a second-hand car on his wife, just so he can save enough folding for a dirty weekend with his doxy. This lunkheaded, smirking goon would be objectionable enough in the seventies. Now, I can’t stand to be within ten feet of the chinfaced thug without wanting to damage something.

Tweet, tweet? Twat.


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Writer. Film-maker. Cartoonist. Cook. Lover.

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