When I was 19, I had a Porsche...
...no, really, stay with me. I'm not some spoiled brat, nor do I have rich parents. It was my Porsche, paid for with my own money. It cost a fortune to insure, despite being on a classic policy and it was so slow and rattly it made my ears bleed. But fuck it, I was 19 and I had a Porsche. Kind of.

It was a 944. Those of you who know about cars will be smirking now, those who don't, let me educate you...



...now that's not it, but it looked the same. Nice from about 250 yards. Up close though, it was dented, the paint was crap, it smelled a bit like wee and it used more oil than fuel, but fuck it, it was MY Porsche.

It cost me £500 and had about 25 seconds tax and MOT left on it, there was no way it was going to pass another MOT without me spending £23,000 on it, but I didn't care, fuck the MOT, it was a Porsche!

So, the day I collected it I did what any 19 year old with a Porsche would do, I went to the pub to show it off to my mates. They laughed at me, lots. But fuck them, they didn't have a Porsche. I did, no matter how shit it was. (By this point in the day it was slowly creeping up on me that it was a lemon, but I dug deep and held onto the positives)

It gets worse though. I got talking to a girl at the bar, a pretty girl at that, so using brick like subtlety I told said girl that "Yeah, I've got a Porsche". Her eyes lit up, she was shallow and only interested in the car, brilliant! I'd show my mates who was the king of the pub! We walked outside, my mates to the left sitting in the sun, my Porsche directly in front, looking all Germanic and Porsche like.

"Where is it then?" Enquirers the lady.

"Urm, it's there" says me with a sheepish point.

"Ha, that's not a Porsche, it's rubbish!" Says the lass, loud enough for my mates to hear.

I sold it a week later.
( The Pollitt chooses to listen to Enya on, Thu 22 Apr 2010, 16:48, Reply)