The 1998 – 2005 Clio in almost all of its guises was a sensational little car. Even now, some 20 years later, they are still fun to drive.
Nicole and her Papa were onto something with the pretty Clio 1. Clio 2 changed a few things like the fitment of plastic front wings and the use of materials inside to make it lighter and cheaper to repair.
I’ll grant you that Clio 2 wasn’t as pretty as Clio 1 but then again it was still far better to look at than Clio 3.
Borne out of Clio 2 was the crazy and short-lived, three litre V6 mid-engined monster using a modified V6 from the Laguna that was a part development engine with Peugeot/Citroën. Two seats and no luggage space in a widened shopping cart from France. Just 2822 road going versions were made.
So I’m taking the 1.2 16 valve as the Clio 2 to get. It’s not a fireball to drive with just 74bhp but this enables you to be enthusiastic in your approach to where you point Clio 2 at and plough on. It’s still a fun car to drive.
Admittedly, the clutch on a high mileage car will become heavy and city traffic will kill your left leg. Or it’ll encourage you to take up the gym membership and work on that right leg that in comparison would have become lazy and weak.
And then there are the mechanical failures that are the Clio 2 Achilles heels. Ignition coils will fail and rocker cover gaskets leak. Simple fixes in the big schemes of things. My niece has one as her first car. I said it would breakdown. It broke down. It was a coil pack.
Interior trim, made light to save weight, will by now, be rattling around with some, if not all, clips broken. You learn to live with it. What you won’t though is the rattle from the optional sunroof. Opening it usually solves the problem.
And who could forget the “bonnets up” controversy where the bonnets would flip up at high speed! Lack of maintenance on the bonnet catch was the culprit here. So lubrication once again saves the day.
So should you buy one? Yes. They are cheap cars, cheap to run, fun to boot around and are still pretty to look at.
And that is why the Clio is a “good car”
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The world’s most populated country has, since 2016, banned depictions of gay people on Chinese TV.
Scenes like this kiss in EastEnders between two men would be banned in China. CREDIT: (C) BBC Kieron McCarron
China has a raft of strict regulations on what its people can see, download and transmit. Even porn is forbidden in the country and its citizens have been offered money, lots of it, for turning in to the authorities those who are suspected of viewing or hosting the content.
However, even darker and more problematic is that the depiction of gay people is forbidden and the language used in that enforcement is incredibly worrying. In fact the ruling saying that content that ‘exaggerates dark side of society’ is banned. This includes homosexuality, but also adultery, earrings on males and even, yes, cleavage.
Even the relationship and first gay kiss in Star Trek between Lt. Paul Stamets (Anthony Rapp) and Chief Medical Officer Hugh Culber (Wilson Cruz) would be banned in China.
The Chinese government’s ban is part of a crackdown on “vulgar, immoral and unhealthy content” and was first reported in 2016 and is nothing more than a government-backed, systematic cleansing of gay people from society.
The government outlines that TV shows shall not “show abnormal sexual relationships and behaviours, such as incest, same-sex relationships, sexual perversion, sexual assault, sexual abuse, sexual violence, and so on.”
This ban, according to the Guardian includes smoking, drinking, adultery, sexually suggestive clothing, even reincarnation.
This clampdown on content has increased since Xi Jinping, China’s president, came into power in 2012.
This means that content readily available in many countries across the globe that incorporate same-sex relationships would be forbidden. In fact, streaming services such as Netflix, Amazon Prime and the BBC’s iPlayer are not available to view in China.
In April 2018, Sina Weibo, China’s largest social network said it would remove “homosexual” content from its platform. Sina Weibo said in a statement that it had begun a “clean-up campaign” to remove “illegal” content, including “manga and videos with pornographic implications, promoting violence or (related to) homosexuality”.
Weibo reversed its ban, but only after a huge backlash against the platform.
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We’re asking our readers to pledge just £1 per month, more if you’re feeling swanky. You can stop payment at any time.
During the summer of 2018, THEGAYUK was fortunate enough to be given the keys to Toyota GB’s homage to Tamiya’s Hilux Bruiser for a week. It was a sad day when they came to collect it.
Shortly afterwards there was word on the street that model giant, Tamiya, was going to release a new radio controlled model based on that very Hilux Extra Cab model. And to really get the excitement up, they displayed it with stickers identical to the one Toyota GB had made.
This new model wasn’t to be based on the original Hilux Bruiser 3 speed chassis and as a result, it has made it more affordable to every enthusiast by basing it on the tried and tested CC-01 chassis.
Tried and tested, this chassis certainly is. It has been around for 25 years! That in itself sounds insane and yet there is still plenty of life in this chassis. It has seen 28 changes in body shell though some have been re-released.
Sometimes, if it’s not broken, don’t fix it and that really is something you won’t be doing with the CC-01 chassis. They don’t break. I used to run one year ago with the Subaru Brat body on it. So without further ado let’s quickly look at the chassis and its build.
It’s simple with a few surprises. Not all the screws are the same and within the first few instructions, you’ll notice that the front diff has smaller screws. Here is a useful tip for you. If you plan on using it off road, try stuffing the front diff with blu-tac. It will lock the diff up but allow some movement, sort of like a very limited slip diff. It helps when off-roading.
The rear diff comes with the option of locking it with 2 useful inserts. The rest of the chassis is pure off-roader in design. The rear has the ability to carry out to scale articulation with a live rear axle while the front is suspended by wishbones and all is damped by oil filled shock absorbers.
With a proper off-roader like this old faithful, it isn’t about speed. The CC-01 was never about speed. It’s all about torque with power to climb and crawl along. With that in mind, you will want to make sure you waterproof the radio gear.
The chassis is tough, rugged and never goes wrong. Even cleaning and maintenance are quick and easy. I could go on about what to do with the chassis for maximum off-road fun, but I’ll leave that up to you to discover. It’s truly will sort of go where you point it.
And now to the best part. The body shell. For years, Tamiya shells were intricate pieces of craftsmanship. Suddenly they started issuing stickers in place of paints for lights and door handles on their polycarbonate shells. It made bodybuilding quicker without the painstaking wait for bits to dry. Even the stickers were pre-cut. To me, that always felt a shame.
Thankfully, the shell for the Hilux Bruiser does have light inserts for the front and rears and the kit comes with a basic front and rear light kit. And there is more too. Masking. The extra cab needs masking up for the application of pearl white so this shell is turning into an intricate one after all that is worthy of extra attention.
What I choose to do however was paint it metallic blue. Tamiya recommends a solid blue colour. Having been up close and personal with the real thing, I can tell you that it is a sparkling metallic blue in colour. So there was no way I was going to paint it solid blue.
As for the stickers, they look daunting. There are plenty of them and all have to be cut out. This was a joy for me and should be for you too. It’s intricate and makes building the model more intricate while developing those modelling skills. I must add that I did get sticker fatigue with this but that only extended the joy of the body to another day. Saying that it took over a week to build the body. A WEEK! The chassis was built within hours!
There is the need to also buy some black paint too for the load bed area and radiator grill. None of this comes in a sticker. The rear light units need to be painted along with the mirrors. So this shell really did turn into a feast for the modeller like a gift that kept giving. And for that, I’d like to thank Tamiya.
Cor! I’m taking you back fifteen years to the New Year’s Eve of 2003. A time when I’d just turned 20 and I’d been dumped by the, then, love of my life. I thought we were going to be together forever. Oh, the naivety of youth.
I was still customer service manager for Budgens Supermarket back in those days. Good old Budgens. You rarely see them around on the high street these days.
A few weeks before my boyfriend had dumped me, I’d bought him a brand new mobile phone worth £150! Now, that was a lot of money back in those days. God, I’m starting to sound like me Nan. God rest her soul.
I can remember the moment of my realization as vividly as if it were yesterday. He still had his bloody mitts on the £150 phone. I was having none of it. There was no way he was keeping it. So I marched down to the hairdressers where he worked. It was two doors down from Budgens.
As I barged my way through the doors, I was greeted by a salon full of ladies having their blow drys, all getting ready to look glamorous to celebrate the New Year. But I didn’t care. I was still heartbroken and acting irrationally. Only five minutes before, I’d been in tears down the fruit and veg aisle as ‘All I want for Christmas’ played over the tannoy.
I bellowed to make myself heard over the hair dryers and as I did, I saw the salon manager making her way towards me.
“I WANT THE PHONE BACK!” I barked as I held my hand out. You could see the client’s eyes all lighting up as the hairdresser’s scorned ex made a scene. It was giving them all a juicy bit of gossip that they could share over a glass of champagne that evening.
“Mark! This is not the time or the place!”
“Just hand over the phone and I’ll leave!”
Back in the safety of my office, I had itchy fingers as I clutched the phone. I was battling with my conscience. Should I read his messages or not? The devil on my shoulder won the battle.
As I clicked open on the inbox, my eyebrows raised. Yes, I can promise you they did. It was the days before I started having botox. And my jaw dropped to the desk.
I witnessed many explicit messages between my ex and another man. All dating back to when we were still together! Part of me wished I’d never looked and the other part of me was glad I had. Although they do say ignorance is bliss.
I slammed the phone down on the desk as steam erupted from my ears. I looked up at the clock. 6pm. The salon would be closing. I decided I had to have it out with my ex. How dare he be sexting and seeing another man when we were still together. Bastard. I was so angry, I could have crushed a grape.
I peeped my head out of Budgens’ front door and I could see the salon was already in darkness. I knew he’d be waiting at the bus stop. I simply had to have it out with him. There was no way I was going into 2004 without dealing with this.
“JANE!” I screamed as I saw her filling up the shelves with Hovis loaves. She jumped to attention. Jane, bless her, and for her sins, was one of my best friends from my Budgens’ days. There was an incident once where she threw some Hovis loaves at me during an argument we were having. But I’ll save that story for another day.
“Please drive me to the bus stop!” I pleaded with her. She grabbed her car keys and we made a swift exit out of the supermarket doors. She screeched to a halt at the bus stop and I saw my ex gulp as I slammed the door shut and walk towards him.
In the meantime, Jane could sense I was about to start a cat-fight so she jumped out of the car as quickly as she could. But in her haste, her foot got caught in her seat belt and she went face first into the gutter.
As she scrambled back onto her feet, I had my hand raised ready to make my first move on my cheating ex. I slapped his face, a la Pat Butcher and Peggy Mitchell style. I took a deep breath and I started to make my way back towards the car. In my mind, a slap had bought the matter to a close.
But clearly my ex had different ideas, and before I knew it, I felt a foot up my backside and I went down to the pavement like a sack of shit. Onto my knees I fell as he kicked me up the derriere.
Too many years of watching Dynasty had prepared me for my next move in the inevitable cat-fight that was about to ensue.
I leapt from my knees like a pouncing tiger and jumped onto his back. We both hit the pavement like a sack of spuds and started to roll around, limp wrists clawing at each other, with no decorum whatsoever.
As we took it in turns to be on top (a first time for everything as he was always very selfish when it came to that normally), I saw out the corner of my eye that quite a crowd was beginning to gather around us.
“Look at Krystle and Alexis!” I heard a bystander call out. Being such a Dynasty fan, I oozed with pride. And hoped I was Alexis. Well, I prayed actually.
When Jane could see that there was going to be no outright winner of the cat-fight, she dragged us apart screaming.
“ENOUGH!” For anyone who doesn’t know Jane, let me tell you, she’s rather scary. She would be very good in the cast of Wentworth Prison. So me and the ex jumped to attention and got back onto our feet rather quickly.
Doing her best headmistress impression, Jane had a good grip on my arm. I assume it was to make sure I didn’t make a break for it and dish out another slap. She opened the car door and practically threw me into the passenger seat.
I couldn’t bear not to have the last word so as Jane started the engine, I wound down my window and stuck my head out into the cold winter air.
“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” I bellowed towards my ex. Jane sped off quicker than her usual speed.
You probably all know Tullene by now. And for those of you who are unfortunate enough to… whoops slip of the keyboard. I meant, of those of you who are FORTUNATE enough to, I’m sure you’ll be questioning why I said yes. Drama follows that girl and I.
My initial question was “Why can’t you take your boyfriend?” To which she replied, “I can’t take my boyfriend because he got into a fight last year and now he’s barred.”
My gut instinct should have been to decline the invitation. I hesitated suddenly and was about to make my excuses when Tullene pulled out her trump card.
“There’s a very handsome gay man that’s just started working with me.”
My ears pricked up. Oh, who am I to turn down an invitation to a social gathering? It is Christmas after all. And I may also find a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
Before I could mutter the words, Christmas work do, I found myself sat at a very posh table at a hotel in Heathrow. I’d dug out my best all-in-one grey suit, and as I had, some moths flew towards me. I hadn’t had any cause to wear it in recent years. I’m at an age now where everyone in my social circle has got married. Except for me, that is. I’m still the token single friend.
But before anyone breaks out the violins, let’s get back to the work do. Tullene had slyly juggled with the place settings and I had conveniently ended up sitting next to the new gay boy colleague she had previously mentioned.
I was about to abuse Tullene by bellowing Cilla Black across the table at her but my eyes came out on storks as Dave, that’s his name, approached the table and came to take his place next to me. HANDSOME was an understatement. I had to pick up the swan-shaped napkin from the table to dab up my dribble from my watering mouth.
We got on famously. We laughed, we joked and we innuendoed our way through the three-course meal. I could see Tullene’s eyes light up as she oozed with pride that her Cilla Black attempts were appearing to be successful.
As the coffee was being poured, he stood up and asked if I’d like to dance. Oh, it was so romantic. And so old fashioned. I loved it. I stood up quicker than a bolt of lightening.
He took my hand and led me to the dancefloor. It was like a scene out of a cheesy 80’s soap. And for those who know me best, will know that that is right up my street.
All my friends tell me I was born in the wrong decade. I love anything 80’s, or 90’s come to that. My DVD collection consists of nostalgic soaps and drama series. Prisoner: Cell Block H, Take the High Road, Dynasty, Howard’s Way. The list goes on.
Anyway, enough of the nostalgic digression. Back to the dancefloor.
As Dave lifted me up into the air, Dirty Dancing style, I felt a flutter. Well, he didn’t actually lift me up into the air. I just made that bit up. I thought it made it sound more romantic. And to be honest, I don’t think anyone could actually lift me up. I’ve come to adore Savvy B and cake too much.
But as he span me around, he leant over and whispered into my ear.
“Would you like to come for a glass of wine up in my room?”
Now, you know me, I’m not normally so easy when I’ve just met a guy but who was I to turn down a handsome man? And after all, it is Christmas. I thought it could be my present to myself.
I surveyed the room, looking for Tullene but she was nowhere to be seen. Dave grabbed my hand and led the way.
As I was being led to my Christmas present, I saw a group of Tullene’s colleagues in the corner. And suddenly my ears pricked up.
“POOFS!” I heard one of them shout. My nostrils flared and I felt steam coming from my ears.
“Ignore them!” Dave pleaded as he tried to drag me on. But I simply couldn’t ignore it. Not blatant homophobia. I’m not really a fighter and I normally avoid confrontation like the plague, but that comment had really got my goat up.
I managed to escape Dave’s hand and I marched up to the perpetrator of the comment. Looking him straight in the eye, I wracked my brains for a suitable, intellectual comeback.
“And you’re a cunt!” Well, it was the best I could muster. Straight, direct and to the point.
He looked shocked as I took Dave’s hand and we continued on our journey to Dave’s room. Maybe he didn’t expect this POOF to respond. I inhaled a deep breath and pushed my chest out. I felt liberated.
As we made our way to the lifts, I heard a man’s voice shout “OI!” I quickly span around in my shiny loafers. It was the homophobe.
“What did you call me?” he barked in my face. He was clearly deaf as well as a C U Next Tuesday. So I repeated my offensive comeback just to ensure there was no misunderstanding as to what I’d said.
And next, Well, I don’t know what came over me but I could smell danger. I feared he was about to punch me so I decided I should be the one to make the first move. Before you could say, Merry Christmas, I seemed to have my hand gripped around his throat and I pushed him up against the wall.
“MARK!” I heard Tullene’s voice come out of nowhere. “What the hell are you doing?” Now, for those who know Tullene, know that she has a very bad, violent temper. Especially when she sees her friends in danger. I knew I had to rile her up quickly as I feared I needed her help. I may have had my hand around his throat but I didn’t actually know what my next move was going to be. I’d never punched anyone in my whole life.
“He called me a poof!” I screamed. I saw the top of Tullene’s head pop open with steam. And I saw Tullene’s eyes change to angry Tullene.
“WHAT?” She bellowed. I felt the man’s Adam apple as he gulped.
He tried to deny it but Tullene was having none of it. She lifted her up her crutch. No, I’m not talking about her lady garden. An actual crutch. Now, for anyone wondering where this random crutch appeared from, let me tell you.
Tullene has a weak ankle. Along with various other ailments and conditions which I won’t bore you with. She bores us enough with them! But anyway, she broke her ankle at my 30th birthday party. And that’s a story for another time!
She picked up her crutch and whacked the man behind his legs. He fell out of my grip and dropped to the floor, legs akimbo.
“That’s for being a cunt! And homophobic!” She screamed and dragged me into the lift out of harm’s way. In all the commotion, I hadn’t noticed Dave had gone missing. Maybe he was scared of my sudden fight club impression. So I never made it up to Dave’s hotel room. But at least I stood up to a homophobe!
I also hasten to add, Tullene now needs to find someone else to take to next year’s Christmas do.
I had some fun thinking about this article. Motoring writer and author, Richard Gooding recently posted up on Twitter pictures from his visit to the Hornby toy museum in Kent. This got me thinking about the toy cars that I longed to own as the real thing. Namely those from Corgi and Matchbox.
There is no sense of occasion with die-cast toys anymore. In the ’80s, a new Matchbox or Corgi release was AMAZING. Imagine the rush for the latest iPhone, to a young boy, it was exactly like that.
I can still remember certain releases with fondness. Even a rehash of an old model in new colours was a worthy occasion. 1985 was a particularly hot year for releases and first to get the new Golf GTi, BMW 325i cab, Escort cab or Lamborghini Countach was frantic.
I would save my £1 a week pocket money and once I had got to the usual £4.99 (I think), I’d treat myself to a large Corgi or for about a quid, I’d buy one of the 75 small Matchbox cars available, choosing it from the rotating Matchbox stand in our local toy shop, Chapmans. The nostalgia I am feeling right now is unbelievable.
The small Matchbox and larger corgis were the ones I loved. I wasn’t so keen on the larger Matchbox or the smaller Corgi’s. Matchbox Superkings lacked details and the small corgis were just cheap. That said, I still had some because, well because I wanted that car like the Peugeot 305 saloon from Matchbox, so don’t judge me.
The die-cast toy was a gateway to driving and car ownership. It taught you about keeping the paint pristine or what would happen in the real world when a brick was dropped onto say, a Rolls Royce. I did end up with a fair number of convertibles and a scrapyard worthy of a lot of money had it been real.
There were also adventures to be had with a die-cast and dream garages could be built from new or exchanging with friends. In some ways, it really is little different to car ownership. So without further ado, let us look at my dream garage of die-cast.
One particular model jumps out. The Corgi Fiat X1/9. It was blue with some racing decals. It looked the nuts. Sleek and wedge-like. There was nothing else like it in my toy box. What’s more, this came with a tow hook. What a stupid option.
That’s what I thought until I was given the Carlsberg X1/9 with the boat on a trailer. Forget the silly little boat you could win on Bullseye, this was a real speedboat with a Cosworth engine. Both of these models I still have and to that, I also have to add a real Fiat X1/9.
Another model was given to me second hand. A small matchbox VW camper van. It was wicked at rolling down the hill. Sadly by the time it got to me, it had lost its pop-up roof. That didn’t stop me from prizing it apart and painting it white over orange. That was always the dream.
Didn’t quite work out that way in the end because I ended up with a yellow VW camper van instead.
Another die-cast hero of mine was made by Solido, the French die-cast manufacture. Always a little more expensive. They made an Alfasud racer. Not quite the Alfasud I wanted but that never stopped the hankering for one. And again I would eventually own the real car. Sadly, like the Solido model that came apart quite easily for restoration, my Alfasud came apart too.
I’ve since managed to make die-cast replicas of practically all the cars I have owned. Sadly Corgi and Matchbox aren’t really the same anymore and what they sell aren’t really what I aspire to own. Instead, I have to turn to the many other makers of die-cast out there for my dreams or more importantly, to remake into my current garage. Thankfully Vitesse made some truly unusual models so I have been able to make the last addition to the fleet, the Berlingo.
Where it goes from here, why knows. I’m hankering for a Lancia Beta coupe, Solido made one of those. I also want another Citroën Dyane and I know Corgi made that because I’ve already got one.
Any car lover hates this time of year, especially those with old classics or cars known for being a tad “delicate” in winter. For me, I am talking about my Fiat X1/9.
This year, the summer was cruel. It was hot. Too hot to get the little open-top Italian out. Yes, I know there is a lot of irony there but this Fiat just doesn’t like getting too hot and documented problems of fuel evaporation are not stories of make-believe. With the X1/9 it happens and it has done so on numerous occasions.
And so the hot summer went and having had a number of press cars for TGUK, I went on a press car break so I could use my own and enter stage right, the X1/9. I managed to do 303 miles this year. And I can tell you every single journey it took including one to an Italian car breakfast morning on a Saturday that I attended on Sunday!
So you can see, winters arrival is cruel because of 2 things; This is an 80’s Fiat and not know for longevity in wet salty English conditions, and the thing is ruddy awful in the wet. That said it can be fun but the concentration needed to drive it in the dry needs to be ramped up to 11! And the wipers are set for Italy, so not very good.
Preparing a car for winter hibernation isn’t that straightforward. It could be I suppose but if you like to tinker and fanny around, then it isn’t. I use a system called a “Permabag”.
It’s a massive bag of tarpaulin fitted with a divers zip. In it go 2 desiccators that absorb moisture within the bag and from the car and it keeps it all dry and the humidity within it controlled.
I’m fortunate to be able to park up the X1/9 and leave it there, undisturbed for great lengths of time. The makers of Permabag also recommend that it is best left. Opening and closing the bag are not what this system is about. The idea is to reduce the humidity and leave it in its current state. This system doesn’t require any power either, so it is ideal for any garage, anywhere. If you need to move the vehicle regularly and have power, I can recommend the Carcoon system that I know many use. Check out the differences in the links below.
So it would seem strange when I tell you that what I did next was to wash the car. Ideally, you should clean any car you put away. After washing, a good polish is a great idea. It’s also a time to make a note of any areas of the body that will require attention next year. I spotted 2 areas of rust and then added another by pulling a drain pipe off from the engine bay. That is going to be fun trying to reattach that!
Now is a good time to attend to 1 or 2 of those small annoying jobs. One in particular for me was the moss and grime around the rear light seals. Quick wash and scrub with an old toothbrush and a poke with a cotton bud, and now all clean.
So this is something to do next year. It’s not recommended to do paint work and then store away with the system that I use.
I would normally recommend an oil change too. Reasons being are that old oil contains contaminants that can attack things like bearing surfaces. The oil has done just 1400 miles and still comes out clean on the dipstick so this time I’ve left it. I will do an oil change this time next year. Also, check the concentration of antifreeze and add any if needed.
Now, this part might be a bit OTT but screen wash bottles, remove, empty, clean and leave empty. Several reasons why I do this. Firstly is stagnant water can breed legionnaires disease. You don’t want this. You’ll be horrified by how old the water is in your screen wash bottle if you don’t empty regularly. So bottles are very big, the X1/9’s is about 7 litres in capacity. I don’t use 7 litres of screen wash.
Secondly, the system I use removes moisture. A washer bottle is not sealed. So you can see where that is heading. It’s also a good idea to wash it out every so often because it’s an excuse to fanny around and tinker.
If you are lucky to have a spare set of wheel, now is a good time to fit them. It doesn’t do a tyre any favours sitting in one place for any length of time. Even my Tamiya shelf queens models are on raises to stop the tyres from getting flat spots!
I don’t have a set of storage wheels for the Fiat, so I tend to over-inflate them by about 8-10psi. Doesn’t sound a lot I know but over time the car can lose tyre pressure and as the X1/9 can’t be seen inside the bag, I have no idea what it is doing so this offers me some piece of mind.
Now you may just be about to stop me from putting the X1/9 away in the bag having only washed it and you would be right. I leave it in the garage for another week or so to dry out as best it can.
Then I’ll put it away, under a cover, zipped up in its bag and leave it. Leave it dead of power because whatever you do, don’t forget to disconnect the battery. And then count down those days. One Hundred and Seventy-Five I said and if April looks promising, it’ll be less.
Opening it up will bring its own problems so I’ll let you know how that goes after 175 days time.
Since that time 100 years ago we have publicly remembered those who give their lives in service on just one day of the year. We can do more.
The world we live in is and has been protected by those who make the ultimate sacrifice, those who serve and are maimed and others who become veterans of service.
As a gay man within a broader LGBT+ spectrum, I am able to identify how I choose because of the campaigning that has taken place in the free democracy of the western world.
Changes to rights have been enshrined in law because of the society in which we live. The world could be a much different place if it were not for those who gave their lives.
We could show more respect by using the rights we have. Voting is the cornerstone of democracy, whether it is in general or local council elections, a mayoral vote, or a referendum on a specific topic.
The gift of freedom and the right to vote are so often taken for granted. We have them and don’t know or think what life would be without them, or under a dictatorship. There are examples on this planet that might be representative of how we could be indoctrinated and punitively treated if the outcomes had been different.
Some casually dismiss going to vote because it is cold outside or wet or they don’t feel like it, and yet so many have died that we may have the choice and the chance to vote.
Whatever your political affiliation and whatever your view on the issues of the day, when you are afforded a vote it is your chance to make your voice heard and to be counted. The dead don’t have a vote, so remember and honour them by casting yours.
There are few occasions in the modern world when we are alone with our thoughts. One such time and place is in the booth of a polling station. It feels an apt and poignant situation to consider those who died so we may be free; so I suggest a campaign to add the poppy as a symbol of remembrance be added to all future ballot papers
Autumn is here and before you know it, we’ll be into winter. I turn my attention away from working on the fleet to playing with toy cars. Even at the age of 43, I still can’t pass a car boot sale toy box without taking a look for something a bit scabby that I can turn into something loved again.
I’d bought this Fiat Panda as a new toy back in 2000 from Beatties toy shop. Now for the toy geek in you, the Bburago Panda model was released sometime in 1982. It was 17 years old now and still being sold as a new toy car. The Fiat Panda hadn’t been sold in the UK since 1996 but would soldier on until 2003 in Italy. So this probably explains why it was still sold by Bburago.
I digress but perhaps this is to do with the paint I’ve been sniffing this weekend. The weekend I decided to strip and rebuild my battered Panda.
There is something quite therapeutic in taking a rough model and making it good again. This time you get to choose the colours, the spec, the interior layout and/or colours and wheel choice. It’s almost like buying a real car without the expense except for paint.
This weekend, the Panda has cost me £12 in paint. Or around £30 if you add the other paint needed that thankfully I have in stock from other projects. Model building is fun but from an initial layout, it can look expensive especially when you need just need 3 dobs of clear orange for the indicators for instance.
I wanted to do a Sisley 4×4 in metallic green. That was the plan some 18 years ago. So I’ve scrapped that idea and decided to go back to basics like the Panda was. A nice shade of pastel blue with the lower half in grey.
Thankfully with Bburago, they screw together so dismantling is easy. I try and dip the shells in paint thinners but the 1/24th scale body was too large so a soft fire brush on the workbench was used to strip the paint down. You don’t always have to strip the paint. Some paints won’t react to thinners so a good rub down with wet and dry is sometimes all that you need.
Primer is essential. Grey or white dependant on the colour you choose. Now I did use a rust inhibitor primer on the lower half of the Panda. A bit overkill for a diecast model that won’t rust but this is an old Fiat so I wasn’t going to take any chances. OK, that is a bit OTT but I needed grey and that was all I had in stock.
Allowing a few hours to dry and the use of the airing cupboard (always helps to have access to the hot room of the house to aid model paint drying) the drying time was accelerated. Next was to mask up the lower section for another coat of grey in the form of plastic primer that is sort of the correct shade for the lower panels on Panda Mk1.
The rest, as they say, is a walk in the park. Top coat paint colour applied in light even coats and then once dry, adding the details and reassembling.
OK, so it’s not that easy. Like painting a real car, you need to do the door shuts and inside areas first. Easier to do inside parts because the paint finish doesn’t matter as much if it has some overspray or flat areas.
The details are what can make a model. For your £1.99 (1999 prices) Bburago were not going to paint the lights for you. So I went wild and added those three dobs of orange for front and rear indicators.
And now I am left with a bespoke Fiat Panda model that looks like the launch model that as one critic rudely or rightly said, was as square as the box it had come in. Now isn’t that the truth.mo
JAMIE. Cor, that name takes me back. I can’t quite remember when he was in my life. Let me just ponder for a moment. I’ve got a feeling it was back in 2015.
That was back in a time when I had quite an addiction to Grindr. At one point, I thought I was going to need therapy to wean myself off the app. I’ve since deleted it as Grindr gets right on my tommys these days.
But one night, I think it was a cold winter’s night in February 2015, I was just finishing work and I fancied a bit of jiggy jiggy and a glass of wine. So, I turned on Grindr and waited for a ping.
When I was an avid Grindr user, I would never initiate a conversation. Call it fear of rejection or whatever you like. But just as I was taking a sip of Savvy B, a message pinged up.
It was a very handsome man, in his late 30s and he lived in Weybridge. My antennae started whizzing around. Oooh, I thought. An older man is just what I need. He’ll be mature and experienced, I thought. And he lived in Weybridge. So I assumed he would be rich, even more appealing.
Before you could say blow job, Jamie had invited me over to his gaff for a glass of Savvy B. Which we all know is secret code for sex. Well, maybe not so secret.
Pardon the pun, but when I walked in, he really blew my mind. Along with something else.
It felt different with Jamie. For anyone not in the know about Grindr, you normally walk straight through the front door and then, more often than not, you head straight to the bedroom.
But not with Jamie. He already had a glass of plonk waiting for me and told me to take a seat on the sofa. We actually got on really well and I could feel my heart skip a beat as he looked at me as we laughed.
After two glasses of Savvy B, he came in for the kiss. Obviously, it would have been rude of me not to reciprocate. There was a real passion in the way he kissed me and before you could say anal, he had dragged me into the bedroom. Not that I needed much dragging.
I pulled down his trousers and I nearly fainted. He almost had my eye out. His penis was already fully erect so as it escaped from his flies, it came at my face like a coiled spring. I had to dodge it otherwise I fear I may have been blinded in my right eye.
And I hate to be crude, but my word, it was rather large. I do believe I could have used it as a canoe.
As I stripped off my clothes, I saw him lean over and open his bedside drawer. When I saw him pull out a pair of handcuffs, I think I turned white.
Everyone who knows me well, knows my complete obsession and love of the well-known TV show The Bill. But I didn’t know how I felt about being handcuffed to a bed.
Before you could shout, “Arrest that man!”, he had handcuffed me to the bed and I actually found it quite exhilarating.
After an hour of passionate lovemaking. I call it lovemaking as, contrary to popular belief, I am really a hopeless romantic. After the deed was done, he released me from the cuffs and I kissed him goodnight. As I drove away, I hoped he would ask to see me again.
A few weeks went by and we had started to see each other on a regular basis. Although it was only for sex. I become quite accustomed to being handcuffed. I used to scream, Next Time on The Bill!
We never left the house together or went to a restaurant or anywhere in public actually. It was just sex. But I had started to fall in love with my fuck buddy. Oh shit. What a big faux pas.
On numerous occasions, I begged him to take things to the next level.
“Why don’t you take me out for dinner?” He would always fob me off when I asked that question.
“I’m tired.” Not too tired for sex, I used to think. Not that I was complaining, it was very passionate and I enjoyed it.
One day, after quite a few months of handcuffed lovemaking, I insisted that I would be round on Monday when he finished work, to cook him a lovely home cooked meal. If he couldn’t take me out for dinner because he was too tired, I would bring the dinner to him!
I gauged his reaction and considering he’d never tasted my cooking, I could tell he wasn’t keen on the idea. And then he came out with it.
“I think you want more from me than I want to give you.”
OH. My face dropped. Obviously not literally. I’ve had far too much botox for that to happen. But you get the picture.
“But you keep asking me back”, I was ashamed at how needy I sounded.
“Yes, but I just want sex.”
Heartbroken. I walked out of his flat, taking my half drunken bottle of Sauvignon Blanc with me. I felt no desire to share my expensive New Zealand wine with that bastard.
A year had passed me by and Jamie hadn’t entered my thoughts in a while. Until one day, when a message popped up in my inbox.
“Do you still do beauty treatments? I need my eyebrows waxed please.”
My first thought. You cheeky bitch. But then, I thought of the money. What did I have to lose?
I turned up at his flat, armed with my wax strips. I lay him on my beauty couch and got to work on his bushes that housed his eyes.
Strip after strip, he yelped out in pain. I decided he wasn’t worthy of my usual gentle touch I normally use on my clients. I was quite enjoying inflicting some pain on him.
“WHOOPS!” I suddenly screamed out. He shot up from the couch and looked straight in the mirror. He looked horrified as the realisation dawned on him that he had a rather large chunk missing from right in the middle of his brow.
Feigning complete innocence, I pulled my best sorry face that my botox would allow.
“I’m so sorry. It was a complete accident.”
Needless to say, he never made another appointment.
Now for an article about adding things on, I am struggling for a title for this piece other than “Accessories” which is a bit ironic. Anyway, let’s crack on…
Ever since man has had wheels, he has had this propensity to add, personalise or make his own, the car that he drives. Now I say he but I could very well say she too. And indeed where I am about to take you, the man was the chooser of the car, the woman did the dishes.
I was recently thumbing through Jaguar’s accessory and options list the other week. I was astounded to see £15 jump leads being sold for £126. Even Rimmer Brothers sell “genuine” Jaguar jump leads for £125.12p
And then I started to look over the other goodies (or lack of) you could get for the Jag and it didn’t stop there. Other manufacturers are also slack in their personalisation of your vehicle. It’s all so ordinarily dull. So I decided to delve back into a time that us old enough to remember haven’t forgotten and look at who did the great extras. We go back, right back to the 1970s. You see a time when men chose the car which is why I said it to start with. Have you never seen Mike Leigh’s Abigail’s Party?
I have my own list of goodies that I like to add including spotlights, over mats, wind deflectors, and mud flaps if available. I spent many hours pouring lustfully over the accessory brochures in my time. There were things you could get for the Citroën Visa that to this day I still dream off. They were awful! By the time I got my Visa, Citroën had stopped selling these extras so I was never able to dress my own with genuine naffness. And this is probably for the best.
The French were always good at the accessory. Both Citroën and Renault played on their Frenchness by using French words on their accessory brochures. Citroën had “Accessoire” while Renault were the kings with “Boutique” and my word what a boutique it was.
You could dress your 70’s Renault up to be the talk of the town either stylistically or in a way that your neighbours would wish for it to be hit by a bus. Renault Boutique had a stripe to suit (or not as the case sometimes was) for your car and the worst culprit would go to the R4. In fact, everything extra they sold for the R4 was vile.
Renault did redeem themselves with the Starsky and Hutch stripes on the R17. Citroën, on the other hand, could not and by the 1980s, they had lost the plot. Wheel arch finishers could be bought for the CX. Now those who know will know that the CX didn’t really have rear wheel arches. Well, think again. Those pesky spats that covered the rear wheels could be replaced with a lipped piece of plastic.
Not ones to waste money because they didn’t have any and because they didn’t want to be without some accessories, BL with Unipart, demonstrated their collection of aftermarket tat for the Metro with cartoons. Knorr used cartoons for serving suggestions for Aromat. While aromat was the finest MSG available for food, Unipart extras were not. You really could get everything you’d never want for your Metro like cruise control and air conditioning.
VW UK was mean to us when compared to VW USA. The humble T2 bus could be got with 2 pieces of chrome and a choice of roof racks. In the US, you could get EVERYTHING. And the Golf was left short-changed too. 1975 Golf had no reverse lights while the Beetle and Bus had them there and ready to go with a bit of wire. Never mind because VW could sell you a pair for the Golf that resembled porch lights that you have outside your front door.
The final word goes to the Italians and in particular, Lancia. They offered you the driver much more than a pair of spotlights and a body kit to cover up the rust and stripes to hold it all together. They offered a range of clothing before it was seen as enthusiastic wear. Forget rally jackets, they even sold shirts. Not just any old shirts that you could get in Marks and Sparks, oh no, they had genuine polyester cotton ones. So basically it was exactly the same as Marks and Sparks and the Grantham catalogue. What those two didn’t have was the suave man in Lancia sunglasses and to a 10-year-old Stuart, he was frigging HOT.
