John Dorian
Glass Case of EMOTION
I like him. Top Gear is different gravy.
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Jeremy Clarkson
- Thread starter Soul Finger
- Start date
Easy 10
Brain dead MUG SHEEP
I wish.Dick Knights Mum said:
OK, those examples are just a list of some of his various "misdemeanours" from Widipedia, but honest, Clarksons writing is very, very funny. The bloke is an arse, but a very funny and articulate one. I wish I still had that book now, cos some of his exaggerated metaphors are sheer genius.
Pevenseagull
meh
- Jul 20, 2003
- 20,706
Man of Harveys said:
"Salad is for rabbits" (qv a million other borish dullards)
Trufflehound
Re-enfranchised
Tom Hark said:Pretentious, ich?
Gunter Grass is a cracking read. I, however, have only read Die Blechtrommel (in English).
Man of Harveys
Well-known member
bolox - I'm still trying work out if that shouldn't be "mich" instead - but I'm too FICK to knowTom Hark said:Pretentious, ich?
Tom Hark Preston Park
Will Post For Cash
- Jul 6, 2003
- 72,392
Easy 10 said:
Much as I admire your undoubted comic genius Easy 10, and would normally act on your recommendation sight unseen, I genuinely FEAR that Clarkson's book would just be an extension of his lardy permy Top Gear persona. I mean, he wasn't even that funny on Grumpy Old Men.
Do you PROMISE the book is funny? WELL?
I like him - he's a tongue in cheek wind up merchant who isn't afraid of speaking his mind - which is lacking on tv/media these days....
Barnet Seagull
Luxury Player
Here's what IMO is the best article in that book.
"My eldest daughter is not sleek. In fact, to be brutally honest she has the aerodynamic properties of a bungalow and the coordination of an American bombing raid.
She puts a huge effort into running. Her arms and legs flail around like the Flying Scotsman's pistons but despite this you need a theodolite to ascertain that she is actually moving forwards. She's a bit of a duffer at the school's sports day.
Luckily, the school tries to operate a strict "no competition" rule. The game starts, the children exert energy and then the game finishes. This doesn't work terribly well with the 50-metre running race but often there are never any winners and consequently there are never any losers.
That's the theory, but round the edge of the sport's ground there's a communal picnic for parents. I had been asked to bring along a potato salad, which sounds simple enough but oh no. My potato salad was going to be creamier and made with higher-quality potatoes than anyone elses potato salad. This is why I got up a 4:30 a.m. to make it.
Nobody was going to scoop my potato salad quietly into the bushes. Nobody was going to make joke retching noises behind my back. I was out there to win, to crush the competition like beetles.
My daughter did not understand. You told me it didnt matter if I come last in the race, she said.
It doesnt, I replied
So why, she pressed on, are you trying to win a competition for potato salads when there isnt one?
There bloody well was. And a competition for pasta salads, too. And quiche. But all of these paled alongside the brownie wars.
Obviously I chose the ones made by my wife but pretty soon I was surrounded by a gaggle of women. Try mine. It was just like the old days when schools had teams and competition and everyone crowded round shouting: Pick me, pick me. I was never picked. I was always left at the back like the spring onion in the bottom of the fridge: Oh do we have to have Clarkson, sir? Hes useless.
I was therefore determined that no brownie should be left out, but this wasnt enough. I was being pushed to decide, publicly, whose was the best: my wifes with the creamy centre; the ones made with chocolate that had been specially imported from America; or the ones with the pecans floating in the middle. They were all lovely, I said, sticking to the spirit of the day.
What spirit? Whats the point of protecting children from the horror of failure on the sports pitch when their parents are all giving one another Chinese burns on the touchline? My brownies are better than yours. Say it! Say it!
I spoke last night to a man who bunged one of the teachers 50 quid at his daughters sports day, saying: look, if its close for the first and second, you know what to do.
The following year his daughter wrote to him saying: Dear Dad, please let me come where I come. Dont try to bribe anyone. He did as asked and she came second. But he wasnt finished. He took the cup she won to the engravers and had it inscribed with a big 1st.
Its not as if children dont understand the concept of losing. Mine regularly have their stomachs blown open by aliens or their heads kicked in by a Russian agent. Of course, you could be the good parents and turn up at sports day with a bowl of tinned prunes. You could force your children to put the PlayStation away and stick to Monopoly, which has no winners or losers because nobody in the whole human history has ever had the patience to finish a game.
Think about it. If your child has no understanding of failure, how will he cope when he walks around the back of the bike sheds one day to find his girlfriend in a passionate embrace with Miggins Major? Therell be a bloodbath.
I dont want my children to be unhappy. Ever. It broke my heart when, as predicted Emily was last in her running race, thumping across the line like a buffalo. I couldnt bear to watch her fighting back the tears of humiliation.
But what do you do? Well, why not teach them that losing is better tan winning. Certainly, its impossible to make someone laugh if youve come home first. So anyway, I got the deal, won the lottery and woke up in bed the next day with Cameron Diaz and Cladia Schiffer. Thats nice but its not funny.
Further more, arranging your face when you win is impossible. You have to look proud but magnanimous and thats hard even for Dustin Hoffman. Michael Schumacher has been winning since he was eight and he still cant pull it off.
All the funniest people in life are abject and total failures. Theres no such thing as a funny supermodel or successful businessman who causes your sides to split every time he opens his mouth.
This is presumably why I felt a certain sense of pride as we trudged home from the sports day picnic. Everyone else was carrying empty bowls that had been licked clean. And me? Well my bowel was still full of uneaten potato."
"My eldest daughter is not sleek. In fact, to be brutally honest she has the aerodynamic properties of a bungalow and the coordination of an American bombing raid.
She puts a huge effort into running. Her arms and legs flail around like the Flying Scotsman's pistons but despite this you need a theodolite to ascertain that she is actually moving forwards. She's a bit of a duffer at the school's sports day.
Luckily, the school tries to operate a strict "no competition" rule. The game starts, the children exert energy and then the game finishes. This doesn't work terribly well with the 50-metre running race but often there are never any winners and consequently there are never any losers.
That's the theory, but round the edge of the sport's ground there's a communal picnic for parents. I had been asked to bring along a potato salad, which sounds simple enough but oh no. My potato salad was going to be creamier and made with higher-quality potatoes than anyone elses potato salad. This is why I got up a 4:30 a.m. to make it.
Nobody was going to scoop my potato salad quietly into the bushes. Nobody was going to make joke retching noises behind my back. I was out there to win, to crush the competition like beetles.
My daughter did not understand. You told me it didnt matter if I come last in the race, she said.
It doesnt, I replied
So why, she pressed on, are you trying to win a competition for potato salads when there isnt one?
There bloody well was. And a competition for pasta salads, too. And quiche. But all of these paled alongside the brownie wars.
Obviously I chose the ones made by my wife but pretty soon I was surrounded by a gaggle of women. Try mine. It was just like the old days when schools had teams and competition and everyone crowded round shouting: Pick me, pick me. I was never picked. I was always left at the back like the spring onion in the bottom of the fridge: Oh do we have to have Clarkson, sir? Hes useless.
I was therefore determined that no brownie should be left out, but this wasnt enough. I was being pushed to decide, publicly, whose was the best: my wifes with the creamy centre; the ones made with chocolate that had been specially imported from America; or the ones with the pecans floating in the middle. They were all lovely, I said, sticking to the spirit of the day.
What spirit? Whats the point of protecting children from the horror of failure on the sports pitch when their parents are all giving one another Chinese burns on the touchline? My brownies are better than yours. Say it! Say it!
I spoke last night to a man who bunged one of the teachers 50 quid at his daughters sports day, saying: look, if its close for the first and second, you know what to do.
The following year his daughter wrote to him saying: Dear Dad, please let me come where I come. Dont try to bribe anyone. He did as asked and she came second. But he wasnt finished. He took the cup she won to the engravers and had it inscribed with a big 1st.
Its not as if children dont understand the concept of losing. Mine regularly have their stomachs blown open by aliens or their heads kicked in by a Russian agent. Of course, you could be the good parents and turn up at sports day with a bowl of tinned prunes. You could force your children to put the PlayStation away and stick to Monopoly, which has no winners or losers because nobody in the whole human history has ever had the patience to finish a game.
Think about it. If your child has no understanding of failure, how will he cope when he walks around the back of the bike sheds one day to find his girlfriend in a passionate embrace with Miggins Major? Therell be a bloodbath.
I dont want my children to be unhappy. Ever. It broke my heart when, as predicted Emily was last in her running race, thumping across the line like a buffalo. I couldnt bear to watch her fighting back the tears of humiliation.
But what do you do? Well, why not teach them that losing is better tan winning. Certainly, its impossible to make someone laugh if youve come home first. So anyway, I got the deal, won the lottery and woke up in bed the next day with Cameron Diaz and Cladia Schiffer. Thats nice but its not funny.
Further more, arranging your face when you win is impossible. You have to look proud but magnanimous and thats hard even for Dustin Hoffman. Michael Schumacher has been winning since he was eight and he still cant pull it off.
All the funniest people in life are abject and total failures. Theres no such thing as a funny supermodel or successful businessman who causes your sides to split every time he opens his mouth.
This is presumably why I felt a certain sense of pride as we trudged home from the sports day picnic. Everyone else was carrying empty bowls that had been licked clean. And me? Well my bowel was still full of uneaten potato."
Tom Hark Preston Park
Will Post For Cash
- Jul 6, 2003
- 72,392
Barnet Seagull said:
Dick Knights Mumm
Take me Home Falmer Road
that is the best article ? There are some truths in there I supose. Not many laughs though.
Barnet Seagull
Luxury Player
Dick Knights Mum said:
enjoyable rather than earth-shatteringly funny. I can take him or leave him to be honest.
Easy 10
Brain dead MUG SHEEP
Well as you know, there's no accounting for taste Tom. But if you read that book and fail to chuckle/snigger/guffaw or even snort through your nose at LEAST a dozen times before you're halfway through, then I will shave grooves in my left eyebrow and go by the name of 'Nigel' for a week.Tom Hark said:Much as I admire your undoubted comic genius Easy 10, and would normally act on your recommendation sight unseen, I genuinely FEAR that Clarkson's book would just be an extension of his lardy permy Top Gear persona. I mean, he wasn't even that funny on Grumpy Old Men.
Do you PROMISE the book is funny? WELL?
Skaville
Well-known member
Never has the phrase cockjuggling thundercunt been more applicable.
Easy 10
Brain dead MUG SHEEP
Thats a goodun, but by no means the best IMHO.Barnet Seagull said:
The one where he goes on holiday to a swamp in Sri Lanka just had me in bits.
Barnet Seagull said:
Oh yes, I imagine she finds him hilarious.
Tom Hark Preston Park
Will Post For Cash
- Jul 6, 2003
- 72,392
Easy 10 said:
That won't be necessary, Easy, I'll settle for a full refund of purchase price.
Man of Harveys
Well-known member
Yes, she'll no doubt thank her father for having called her fat in a book for the sake of "humour". Christ, he's an even bigger **** than I thought.hans kraay fan club said:
Tom Hark Preston Park
Will Post For Cash
- Jul 6, 2003
- 72,392
Man of Harveys said:
I was thinking similar. Poor girl will have issues in later life. That's not nice.
Easy 10
Brain dead MUG SHEEP
Done.Tom Hark said:
I wanted that book back anyway.
