"Science", no doubt conducted by the Centre for Studying the Bleeding Obvious, proves that women are sexually aroused by supercars–as opposed to econocars, which have all the sex appeal of a Jeremy Clarkson centrefold.
This probably explains why my 1973 AMC Gremlin was less of a babe magnet than I'd hoped.
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I've always imagined myself crouching in a trench, a Lamborghini speeding towards me, me shooting at it with a shotgun at the fastest rate of fire I can physically achieve.
Parts of its skinning fly off as I do significant damage to it, and finally as it flies over my trench I shoot one more round into its belly. Its engine stops running, it lands on its nose and catches fire.
As I run out of my trench towards the burning monster, a fat middle-aged man dressed in jeans exits the cockpit.
'What's the matter ? No smart remarks this time, Jeremy ?'
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