Summer is upon us; let the grilling and smoking commence!

[The Jorge]

Nonsense. It lacks the gravitas of the Passat. It looks a bit squashed. Even so, it must be galling that your chick has a better car than you, no?

It's not my fault you have yet to be party to the magnificence of The Jag. I'm booking it into the body shop next week with my ******LOOOOLLLLL FRREEEEE MOONNEEEY ******* from the insurance people.

[The Jorge]

Those things always remind me of The Homer.



The Eos does have a very clever roof though, I'll give it that

[Burney]

Are you the type of person who will get in your car on a weekend and just “go for a drive”???

Do people still do that? I would have thought that the idea of driving for pleasure in this country went out with double-declutching and the canvas-backed driving glove?

[SWv2]

No.

You use buses, don't you?

No actually, unless there is a Luas strike which is quite often these days.

[SWv2]

Do people still do that? I would have thought that the idea of driving for pleasure in this country went out with double-declutching and the canvas-backed driving glove?

I think we both know "people" do.

Semi-Dutch white wine drinkers who also dye their hair.

Them.

[Burney]

No actually, unless there is a Luas strike which is quite often these days.

Trams.

[Sir C]

No actually, unless there is a Luas strike which is quite often these days.

That's a form of public transport, is it?

Are you a homeless, sw?

[SWv2]

Trams.

A necessity I am afraid as part of the daily commute. A mere 10-15 minutes from St Stephens Green to Windy Arbour and then I drive from there in my motor in a manly fashion.

I have no fondness for driving, for me it is merely a factor of life in allowing me to get from A to B in order to facilitate C.

[SWv2]

That's a form of public transport, is it?

Are you a homeless, sw?

Don't try and snob it up with me Fauntelroy. I have your number*.

*Not your actual number you understand

[Burney]

A necessity I am afraid as part of the daily commute. A mere 10-15 minutes from St Stephens Green to Windy Arbour and then I drive from there in my motor in a manly fashion.

I have no fondness for driving, for me it is merely a factor of life in allowing me to get from A to B in order to facilitate C.

Sir C will not tolerate this argument. He gives me sad, pitying looks when I suggest that cars are simply tools and don't have souls.