lewis hamilton,formula 1,
A couple of minutes later, the assistant came over to the table with the Grandson's Jar of Food, which they had heated to a temperature where it was now glowing Cherry Red. They now needed a Jug of Cold Water to reduce the temperature of the jar from "Searing", down through "Jeez, that's still Bloody hot" and onto "Now, that's how it needs to be". The good news is that they were allowed to be trusted unsupervised on their own with the Jug of Cold water the Assistant brought to allow this quenching process to be implemented.
“Health and Safety” apparently explains it all.
And for a minute there, I thought there was a problem.
We can also see the spectre of additional “sports” appearing on the horizon, all vying for a 21st Century piece of the action. Skateboarding seems to be the latest one, for reasons that currently escape me. In my glorious ignorance, I would have thought this activity was limited to youths wearing their caps with the peak at 90º covering their left ears in the inner suburbs of a few western cities. I have no idea if it has yet caught on in, say, Morocco or Nigeria or the Rest of the World. Perhaps that’s the cunning plan for the UK to win something in 2012 – get a sport included where you’re the only country who is any good at it, or even knows of its existence. Curling? Scotland, anyone? Or, as Jeremy Hardy calls it – Housekeeping on Ice.
I was throwing out some old newspapers the other day, which set me thinking about all this. There was an article on the sport we’ve all missed here - Cow Tipping. Now I seem to have spent my Three score and a tiny bit years on this earth completely unaware even of the existence of this sport. The clue is in the name – the sport centres on how many people it needs to push a cow over, and somehow or other the League of Cruel Sports, and our Governmental Protectors have not yet seen fit to bring the cruelty of it to the public’s attention, and, presumably as a follow up to the Hunting Ban, push for legislation to ban it. It is therefore burgeoning, presumably more in the rural parts of the realm. Very odd.
The Times carried a very erudite article exposing the subject, showing by means of lots of Cos theta and Tan alpha hieroglyphics how much force pushing a cow over required. The maths seemed to indicate it needed around 3 people, but a flurry of letters in the newspaper threw doubt on the accuracy of the calculation, citing the possibility of a large Centre of Gravity variation dependent upon whether the cow’s udders were full or empty. Some cow-lover from Hawaii then wrote in to confirm that indeed it did need 3 people – “One person on one side of the cow, and two on the other. The lone person pushes very hard on his side, and waiting for the balancing response from the startled animal, the other two then push very hard on the other side to overbalance her.”
Note they don’t do it to a Bull. Apparently this approach “works like a charm”.
The last word on the subject came from a guy from Cambridge University, who apparently has calculated that a person of 12st 10lb would need to Drop kick the cow at around 12mph to get it on its side.
Perhaps the key comment in one of the letters is the claim that, in order to undertake this activity to maximum effect, “Sobriety is a hindrance” – 4 words which tell all, and which should suit the UK’s entrants perfectly if the attempts to promote it as an Olympic Sport are successful. At least, if it does creep in, we could also have a replacement logo, showing a Cow Rampant, with the 5 Olympic Rings tastefully entwined around and attached to its Nose.
It can’t be worse than Kaiser McTavish, the Nazi Highland Terrier.
As part of a long running sequence of the best car Ads EVER, it sits right on top of the pile.
And here’s another from the same camp.
Today, the ear-ring would be worn by a bloke.
An advert can create an impression, a feeling and a perception about a product, a desire to try it out. Be it a chocolate bar or a car, the advert gets you through the door. You buy the bar of Chocolate, you try it, and if you like it, you’re hooked. If you spit it out, no amount of the best advertising in the world gets you to buy another one. For the car, the advert is a much more powerful thing. It’s a fundamental plank of the Image and the Brand – that nebulous, but Oh so Important thing which can command Millions, even Billions of extra money for the Manufacturer from the buying public.
Just ask Vauxhall what they’d give for VW’s image, ask why Ford spent $1,600 million buying the Jaguar name 15 or so years ago, wonder why Cadillac are falling flat on their face trying to sell luxury saloons in this country, and then ask why Peugeot, Renault and Citroen squander hundreds of millions of pounds even bothering to try. IMAGE, my boy, IMAGE.
As I say, the advert only gets you through the door – the product has to deliver – all of which leads me to the subject of this little celebratory piece – the Volkswagen Golf.
IT HAD TO BE SILVER, DIDN'T IT?
Having waxed lyrical about the ads, I bought one. I’ve had mine for 1,915 days now (that’s almost 5¼ years) and the other day, the milometer rolled over the 100,000 mile mark. That’s an average of 52 miles per day.
CATCH THE MOMENT!
And, apart from the bulbs which give up the ghost, new brake pads, new windscreen wipers, a new camshaft belt when the service manual advised me to, and a couple of minor niggles resulting from my failed attempt to mate one of my front headlights with the very inviting rear of an old Audi, NOTHING has gone wrong with it.
It starts when it’s supposed to, stops when I want, and doesn’t stop when I don’t want. It does everything a car like that should.
It averages over 52 mpg (It’s a diesel), accelerates when required, like a little rocket, uses no oil between services, rides and handles tolerably well, and the interior fittings, which are a model of restrained modern elegance and design, scrub up, even now, like new.
Yes. I could write VW a (shortish) list of things they should improve, but none are that important. The Autocar Road testers whinge that it doesn’t handle or ride like a Ford Focus (they’re right, it doesn’t), but in the real world when most of us are not looking for the last ounce of performance, that’s totally irrelevant.
It really is a marvellous thing, and I have grown to respect, admire and occasionally love it. The way it’s going at present, it doesn’t feel as if the next 100,000 miles will hold any great traumas. And if it does have to go, you can understand that the decision about its replacement is really quite simple.
All down to a short advert where I still believe the girl binning her jewels and fur coat was Princess Di!
A CLOSE UP OF THE ACTION
A BEAUTIFUL COVER DRIVE, STRAIGHT OUT OF THE COACHING MANUAL, EXCEPT THAT HE MISSED THE BALL, AND 0.02 SECONDS LATER, THE BAILS WENT EVERYWHERE
THIS GUY, WHO CLEARLY POSSESSED, AND HAD WATCHED, ALL KP'S TRAINING VIDEOS, WAS TERRIFIC - THIS HIT WENT STRAIGHT OUT OF THE GROUND FOR 6, INTO THE ADJOINING RAPE FIELD - LEADING TO -
YOU DON'T GET THIS AT LORDS - LOOKING FOR THE BALL. SOME PLAYERS SEEM LESS KEEN HERE THAN OTHERS!
PUTTING YOUR HEART AND SOUL INTO IT
BILLY NO-MATES, AT LONG ON, WITH THE WREKIN IN THE BACKGROUND - TELL ME YOU DON'T LIKE THAT!