If there's one thing that I'd like to wipe from the world before anything else, before murderers, rapists, children and kittens, it's people driving in fucking cars. Driving or parked, these smug little bastards are surely the true evil in our world today. Don't worry, I'm no going to start ranting about the environment and pollutants, or the (surely apocalyptic and maybe imminent) war about to start due to the potions we put in these four-wheeled monsters, it's something a lot simpler than that.

Isn’t there something just a tiny little bit vulgar about people driving cars? You insert your hard shiny member (a ‘key’, I believe we call it) into the slot (no need to add anything here) and get comfortable, sitting inside your lovely, often dead-skin-covered womb-like pit (‘cos you gotta’ love them leather interiors) with your fucking cup of stinking coffee beside you. Next, you reach out to grab the wheel, which feels surprisingly like a big, black fat phallus, just like that huge cheap dildo that at least one person you know owns and never uses, only to be brought out on them drunken party nights to liven up proceedings. Back to that wheel though - always nice to feel it gripped in your hands isn't it? So now you control this thing, you fondle and stroke its rubber organ between your hands and, usually, it’ll go wherever you want it to go. It does what you want. A few little tweaks here and there, a bit of attention to that firm, upright and very erect gear-stick of yours, the odd tug on a handbrake (shaped like a… ?) and Bob's your uncle.

Now whatthefuck does that all sound like to you? A car is a near perfect, absolute description of man. Any man. Yes, we may lie a bit and pretend we're ever so sensitive, in touch with our feminine side and happy to help with the sewing but, when it comes to the push, we will do whatever you want it you're in control of that lever.

Which brings me back to the car. Invented by either a German or an American, which instantly makes it completely vulgar and disgusting (rather than fat and ugly. Yes, I'm resisting the temptation to generalise here…) this is the encapsulation of a male in a nice, handy, metal, moving format. It makes me physically sick to the stomach to lay eyes on this shit. Everywhere I turn I see these faces, these women staring intensely, being ever so careful, penis envy instantly relieved as they sit on their padded thrones, and I just know they're getting off on it. Then there's the men- all thrashing about with daft smiles on their faces, slipping in, pulling out, going far too fast when they shouldn't be (again, need I add elaborate on anything here?), generally making a total nuisance of themselves and often leaving a bit of a mess behind.

Now, I have put a lot of thought into this, aided by an assortment of Australia's finest herbs and spices and fungi, and I believe I have come up with a solution to this Terror we're faced with every single day. Unleash 'The Bush' on it? Possibly, but it's not a war that that particular imbecile has any chance of winning, as he is instantly outsmarted by any automobile on every level. No, I think that we, everyone, as a race, should quite simply stop driving cars. Bin those keys, burn those completely ridiculous driving gloves (please tell me they were a gift, please) and let the metal penises sit there and fester, to rust down into the depths they deserves to be plunged, to rot back to the dust from which they came until we are emancipated from these masters, the masters of our own slavery which we bow down to on a far too regular basis. Walk. Don't take the bus -holy shit that's even more vulgar than a car, all of those people inside of it, the dirty filthy slut- Christ I'm not even sure if riding a bike is a safe option, those seats are just a little to close to full-on penetration for my liking and to see people straddling ‘em, sometimes even dressed in skin-tight lycra with those bulbous glans like helmets perched upon their domes… well, let's not even get started on that slippery slope into oblivion. Pick up your legs and get walking - who needs horsepower when we have all the necessary apparatus handily located just below our delicate bits? Liberation is found here, and we will all be so much better because of it.

Oh, and for the record, if you're the bastard who cut me up this morning on Mitchell Freeway, when I find you you're gonna’ be wishing you had the kneecaps to do more walking, you stupid piece of shit…