Contemptuality at fifty

Wellyousaythat is Fifty! (That’s 50 posts old)

To celebrate my fiftieth post I present …

I don’t like Top Gear.
The presenters are smug middle aged egotists on a power trip of self righteousness. Drooling over engine sizes and acceleration. Loud shouty types who hate anything perceived to be a) effeminate or c) not like them. They come across as grouchy uncles whose opinionated rhetoric has found some sort of validity in the post ironic world. Top Gear, incredibly, was voted the best TV programme of the last Decade! How the hell did that happen? Have the viewing public grown into such dullards that they have simply voted for the programme that shouts loudest for attention.
Hammond? short arsed fool. Clarkson? Dishevelled oaf. The other one? Pseudo posh nincompoop. As for ‘The Stig’; who cares?!
It’s not that Top Gear is in love with itself, or the “aren't we great” attitude of the presenters, it’s the total obnoxiousness of the concept. Silly blokes banging on about cars.
Hammond nearly killed himself through showing off. Clarkson has all the subtlety and finesse of a Grimm’s fairy tale giant and the other one looks like a right ponce.
Now some of you may think I’m over reacting; but trust me when I say I am being moderate with my views! Top gear exists purely because it has tapped into that all consuming preoccupation of modern Britain; to have more than the next man, typified by dirty great cars!