Hey, trickle down is working as intended: imagine if you’re in a bunk bed, and the guy on the top bunk is a chronic bedwetter.
Justin’s just waiting for a M8...
The Reliant Robin Space Shuttle remains one of the greatest moments in all TV history (“We’ve come to Manchester because you’ll be able to get it done for ten-and-six! Chips in lard! All the tea you can drink!”) and Clarkson notably bowed out of that one. And them acknowledging the qualifications of the scientists…
Please don’t take this the wrong way, but of course you did.
Just do a show with Sabine and Harris. I would watch the crap out of that.
Oh, dealers are doing this. Sort of.
The classic Top gear was only half a show about cars.
What they did is, well, they re-created the Gothenburg Concert Hall. Seriously.
The Miata is more than capable of lugging your clippers and scissors and bottles of conditioner and hairspray around.
“Hi, yeah, we drove our Subaru out on this road that, really, even the most basic of FWD hatchbacks from twenty years ago could tackle so we could chalk up to climb a small boulder in the parking lot.”
Maybe he’s angling for a job with Gawker.
“KILL...ME...MY...EXISTENCE...IS...PAIN.”
“What shoes were you wearing?”
It’s funny until some kid, not knowing what the hell is going on, punches out a window and then Douchebag dad is pissed he has to replace it.
So, Tesla’s revolutionised car bombs, eh? That’ll save on suicide bombers.
What, armpits aren’t lusty enough for you, you freak?
Australian here, I agree.