Obviously, I don’t mean German people who drive cars. I’m talking about the supercilious pond life that buy German cars. Almost without exception, they seem to think the car came bundled with a 10m circle of empty road and drive accordingly – displaying a selfishness normally attributed to Panzer operators. The single letter/single number marques, which sound more like paper sizes than cars, are the worst offenders but they are not alone. Those who buy into the mass market models are just as deluded as the genitally-challenged idiots who think an M3 is the cutting edge of the automotive industry. The Polo is marketed as being indestructible despite being the same size as a child’s toy. The X-series are ‘off-roaders’ aimed squarely at folk who haven’t actually been off-road since they last mounted the pavement to overtake a school bus. And despite all attempts to convince otherwise, the Passat is still a Mondeo with a stronger German accent. But the worst of all?
‘It’s a boy racer’s wet dream that has been accepted into the mainstream because it was souped up by the manufacturer, not some moustachioed 19-year-olds. Oh, and it costs twice what it should, all because some people are still living in the Eighties.’
‘Like a Golf?’ Exactly.
But is it really their fault? Surely someone who has the good sense to buy an Audi or BMW is more important than the rest of us. Every day, we insult their perfect existence by sharing the same roads in our non-Teutonic shit buckets. When a driver of the Fatherland’s finest sits on your back bumper, flashing the Xenon headlights of his Bellend red A4, the least you can do is give way. Or is it run them off the road? I forget.
From double parking in a disabled zone, to speeding alongside a traffic jam and cutting in at the last second, their arrogance is comparable to another bunch of bastards associated with German vehicles and the unshakeable belief that no one else on the planet deserves to live.
Euro MPs, of course. Shame on you.