Our Crack Tongue & Groove
What fresh hell is this?
My brother-in-law once got in touch to let me know that he’d just bought a new car and wondered if I’d like to pop round to have a look at it. It made me think two things: 1. Why don’t you come over to mine if you want to show me it, you’re evidently the one with the sodding car; and 2. I’d truly, honestly, rather check out your new tumble drier. My interest in cars is nil. Flicking through the outer reaches of the digital channels while lying hungover on the settee the other day, I switched over a repeat of Top Gear to watch something called Extreme Kitchen Makeovers. 45 minutes of staring at someone ripping out old kitchen cupboards held more interest for me than three bozos in stonewash denim talking about suspension.
The Fast and Furious films are not aimed at the likes of myself; they’re aimed at self-proclaimed petrolheads (which, incidentally, is incredibly similar to the name that I give Jeremy Clarkson fans. It certainly ends in “heads” anyway). What’s notable about the films is not only do they contain plenty of CGI enhanced action sequences, but they have dialogue that has been entirely cobbled together by computers, too. They’ll no doubt be dispensing with scripts altogether for these live arena shows however, which, apparently, are set to feature fuel tankers engulfed in flames, a jack-knifed lorry being pursued by screeching Honda Civic EJ1s (whatever they are), a couple of tanks, and a (make believe) submarine crashing through some (make believe) ice. It’s basically panto for adults with leather jackets replacing the frilly bloomers. The sooner driverless cars get invented the better.