Behold the mighty sports car (no, really)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
A brief jot, chaps, I've raced through this one, so may have the odd spilling mustooke, I'll fix later. Tally ho!

Submitted: January 16, 2014

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Submitted: January 16, 2014

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Egad old chap, be that a sports car?

 

Few things are so misunderstood as a sports car.

You scrunch yourself up into the smallest space possible. You suck in your stomach so someone can put an engine on your lap.

You lift up your bollocks so they can fit the lower control arms of the front dual wishbone suspension.

And if you're a hirsute gentleman, unlike your sleek and humble narrator, you shave your arse hairs so they don't impede the movement of the rear dual wishbone suspension.

You never, ever under any circumstances install a radio; you revel in the orgasmic concerto of a beautifully tuned racing engine.

A sports car has not been designed for Malcolm the Combover from the accounts department.

It has not been designed for Charlene, Kaycee, or Sherree who sit at pokie machines listening to them ching-ching-ching all day long. It is illegal to drive a sports car if you weigh half a ton and wear tights.

How do you know if you are fit to drive a sports car?

Answer this simple question: a friend is giving you a lift in their car, and you pass a cyclist whose arse and ballsack are shrink wrapped in spandex. What do you do?

If your answer is anything other than a) slap his arse so hard he goes over the handlebars, or b) stick an umbrella up his arse, then you are not fit to drive a sports car.

If you performed both of the above tasks, you deserve not just a sports car, but also a gorgeous Japanese lady to go with it.

 

A sports car is extremely dangerous.

It weighs as much as a toothbrush that has not yet had the toothpaste applied.

If you last more than five years between fatal accidents then you're driving too slowly.

You delight in the exquisitely balanced steering, and the feedback from the road as you four wheel drift between corners. The movement of the throttle has been so expertly designed that Steinway and Sons is studying the movement so they may correctly weight their piano keys for the world's great piano virtuosos.

The clutch pedal is so finely weighted/balanced, is feels as pleasurable to push as a cyclist against your bumper bar at sixty mph.

The gear lever slides in as delicately as a warm spoon into caviar.

The height of the pedals and distance between them has been designed for optimum heeling and toeing.

As for aircon +cruise control, I'll leave you to guess.

 

There are two type of men in the world:

Those who say, "I'm not having sex with that bikie's wife, he might come in while I'm rogering her."

And those who boldly declare, "I'm definitely having s with that bikie's wife, hopefully he'll come in while I'm rogering her."

The first type of man is a Chief Skin Moisturising Consultant at L'Oreal, and he drives a Lexus.

The second type of man drives a sports car.

Cheerio lads!

-Max Flynn

18 July 2013


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