Poor old Journoman. Spends all his time writing rich prose for pretty much no response.

Quick show of hands. Is he wasting his time?

 

it's a only a small subset of colonials that stay drunk enough to get it Paul

 

P,

Journoman is a port in a storm of controversy, debate and misinformation.
He " KEEPS IT REAL" in a sea of hyperbole. Without him to aspire too, what would we become?? His civility, humility and ability are things that we should all aspire to.
greatness is rarely understood.

Steve

(If you are thinking what the f**k?? you are beyond hope!!)

 

I say keep it coming...however, I think there is a strong need for a membership drive to attract more left foot applicator types. Perhaps a guideline to membership could be of some youse....

 

Mmmm...

The Journoman hand book and recruitment drive eh!

I will have to consult with the great man and ask for some guidance!

P.

 

I think that your writtings are great, keep them coming.

 

Who is he and what did he do to get this attention?

 

Journoman,
For God's sake don't quit writing your devine inspirations. Did Leonardo put down his brush because, half way into painting the MonaLisa, he actually noticed that she is ugly? Did Colombus commit suicide because he didn't find a shorter route to India? Did Napoleon give up after Waterloo? Actually forget I said that. My point is, you have a unique and God given ability to inspire us mere mortals and if we find ourselves, sometimes, unable to respond because our vocabulary has not changed since we sang school carols those many years ago. Don't take that as a total and utter refusal of your valuable insight into all things Porsche. I, for one, look forward to reading your, sometimes, totally mad posts with an eager anticipation not seen on my part since I discovered condoms. Wishing you all the best. Oh I forgot, May the Farse be with you.

 

For those who voted What the F**K.

Read and Learn

A beautiful Italian sunset. The stunning backdrop of the mountain pass looms in the hazy distance, an ominous yet friendly giant that beckons me forth and throws down the ultimate driving challenge.

luigi saggigoulie, marketing chief at Ferrari hands me the keys to a beautiful red 360 CS.

'Journoman, it eez a onour to ande zeeze keys too suuch a dwiving legend' . 'Bloody hell Luigi old boy this baby just oozes sex '. 'It eez bwutiful no?, like Sophia Loren,' 'No Luigi, like a chilled glass of champers on a hot summers day, like a blood red rose petal gently glistening on the thigh of Aphrodite herself' . 'Oh Journoman, You are a king among men'

I turn the key and press the starter. The engine bursts into life. 'Crikey luigi, this bloody things got no carpets! and where is the cup holder? even Rance's RS has got a cup holder old boy'. I push on, loading up the chassis, building momentum. Using my applicator, I attack the pass. Here is an extract from my trusty dictaphone;

'This baby sits as flat as kate Moss at a limbo party. 3000 - 4000 - 5000, she growls like a tiger, like a manic chainsaw, a rasping growl that stirs the soul, 5500 she's whooping like ***** on Tony Blair at the labour party conference,................6000 WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGG GGGGGG
'Bloody hell Luigi what is that? Is it a volcano erupting?, an earthquake, has somebody sat on the biggest whoopee cushion in the world? is it an atomic explosion? Duck! it must be a Tornado on it's final approach. NO. THE DARK LORD COMETH!!!! MUMMY I LOVE YOU, I DIDN'T MEAN TO DO THAT WITH DOBBIN, HMMMMMM HMMMMMM HMMMMMMMM CALLING BIG PISTON CALLING BIG PISTON. WE ARE UNDER STEADY STATE ATTACK. REPEAT STEADY STATE ATTACK ..............................................'Thi s is the Big Piston, whyest dust thou call me from my godly rubbings? 'BIG PISTON DO YOU HEAR THE WAIL OF THE DARK LORD? 'No.'
'YOU MUST HEAR HIM' 'No, I do not' WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGG GGG.
'WELL WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT THEN? 'Do not blaspheme in my presence you weasel it ist merely the noise engine starteth up. The biggeth one behindest your stupid journo head'. 'Big piston. I do not understand'. 'That ist because you are surely the most stupid disciple in the history of time. It is't not a valve that maketh the noise, it is't the second engine. The smalleth engine under your seat maketh the car go and the biggeth one in the back maketh only noise but it do make you feel like your worm will one day become two feet longeth. Drinketh from the cup of knowledge and you will surely find the answers you seek under the mark of the maker'

I stop the car and wipe the sweat from my manly brow. The car clicks as it slowly cools in the stillness of the evening. I take out my trusty Big Dong Meggaman multi tool and quickly remove the drivers seat. I see a small compartment labelled 'top secreto' I open it and inside, a work of art. A tiny Smart engine shoehorned into a space no bigger than a shoebox. I crawl under the rear PU and trace the drive train back. Sure enough, the diff links directly to that little smart engine.

I turn and face Luigi. 'Crikey old boy. That bloody great engine doesn't do anything but make a stonking great racket does it? He nods sheepishly. Then I remember the words of the Big Piston and walk to the rear of the car. With my Meggaman, I quickly remove the stylish Ferrari badge. Under it another badge, it reads 'TOYOTA MR2'

I turn again to see Luigi wiping tears from his little Italian eyes.

'Don't worry old boy, your secret is safe with me'


Journoman

 

Your education continues...


Saturday evening, my polyphonic mobile rings ''Cary doesn't live here anymore' in steady state style. It was Pierre Butox the French editor of Le Hot flywheel. 'allo gernoman. I av news from ze circuit bugatti. La Tim Chandler is vewy qweek in hes RS today no? and hes twousers are vewy big' too!!

'Bloody Hell Pierre old boy, that bugger has some inflatable trousers and no mistake..........I'm on my way for sure! Get out the Aston minky and bring your best undie set. All that garlic makes me hot to trot. Er.. On second thoughts Minky, you stay here. The Beautiful Julie will need my manly charms when I expose Chandler for the bounder that he really is'

I took spiritual guidance from the big piston. HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. HMMMMMMMMMM. 'Do you hear me o great big piston, do you hear me?'

'I do hear... you do aways call when I am busy reading the scriptures of Piston pumping babes. What do you want?

'Oh great piston, the dark lord has another disciple and he's given him my inflatable trousers and it isn't fair. What should I do oh great one?

This is indeed a great task and you will need the power of the two to join forces. You will then together go and do find the Dark lord and his disciples and there you will fight with them and do get back your big trousers'..

'But oh great one, who is the second in the power of two? who is my match? what man in all of the world is as great as I, Journoman?'

'This is indeed a task, read from the scriptures of the Porsche World for there you will find a man so great that he is legend even in his own mind, join forces and all will fall before you. Yes journoman, together with that man you will banish the Dark Lord and disciples to the fallen world of Mondeo. But first your journey will taketh you across the waters to his island, for there you will find the second in the power of two. Go in search of the man who answers to the name........Richard Longerthanyours

Journoman...the quest commences

 

Last one for tonight...

Picture this, a cold day in winter, a young Shumakker is sitting nervously waiting to test the Benneton F1 car. He looks at me 'Her Journoman. vot must I do to be da fastest today?' . With years of experience to draw on I looked him in the eye and said 'You know little Michael its really quite simple. You must drive the whole session flat out'. 'But how do I do zis without da big crash breaking da car? Journoman please help me?' You see little Michael, it's all about telepathy, the team look at your telepathy read outs, they can see your steady state driving situation'. 'But how can zis help me Journoman?' 'Easy Little Michael, just drive the whole session full throttle and brake with your left foot! then the telepathic machine will think that you are flat out all the time!!' 'Blinking hell Journoman yoo are a genius! I zey vil be thinking I am driving zee hoole lap flat oout!!'

The Beneton team were amazed, and shortly after they replaced the smouldering rear bodywork of the car they offered him the drive. And so the rest is history. Yes, Shumakker went on to dominate F1 by using my left foot braking technique to great effect.

Now you too can experience the telepathic thrill of left foot braking with the Journoman applicator. Currently undergoing trials in my private wind tunnel, the applicator will soon be available to Titanic members.

For further details of this onece in a lifetime offer contact me on Titanic.


Journoman

 

Saving the best too last....

Here is a quote from my award winning article 'Ceramic revolution'. I think it may be of interest...................................

I was having Al fresco lunch with Porsche R & D Director Helmutt Schlapper. Mid summer, the delicate scent of wild flowers blending perfectly with the subtle aromas of our open bottle of Riesling. A buxom blonde haired beauty gliding towards our table holding two massive plates of sauer kraut. 'Her Journoman, zey are big gazunkers no?'...... 'Actually Helmutt, I was looking at those plates', 'imagine disks that size and that weight! AND the ceramic construction would have fantastic heat dissipating qualities!!' 'Vy Jounoman, you are a geeneuus!, I vil gooo back too de factowy stvaight avay'!!

I put some moves on that waitress, what a night.

.A week later at the test track, I drive the first PCCB equipped car. 'Initial impressions..........ABS triggered as I turn in with big understeer for sure, soon the moment passes, she settles as I hook up to the power, squatting like a ***** on an MP's trumpet' ...........the straight, 150, 180, 200 scenery blurs, the braking zone, still on the power, flat, 200 meters, 150, 100, 75, still flat - the technicians open mouthed,...............at 25 meters I put on the stoppers..... She stops dead. As my mind pulls itself from the 5th dimension, I am aware of tapping on the door. It's Helmutt. I get out and we both stare at the discs, the yellow callipers gleaming triumphantly in the evening sunlight. I turn to him, 'Helmutt, I pushed those babies lap after lap to the limit,' I lean forward and touch a disc with my forefinger, It's cold already. I am aware of birds calling as the sun sets, they know that history has just been made. Tears of joy are falling from Helmutt's face, I too shed a tear 'and do you know what is even more amazing........you can still see the willow pattern'


Journoman

 

Great reading Mr. RS. Danke !!!

 

sign me up you genius! u have PM

 

Journoman on the Carrera Cup....


A glorious late summers afternoon at Donnington and everything to play for in the Carrera Cup final race. I was standing in the paddock explaining the finer points of my applicator to Little Richard Westbrook when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

Little Tim Harvey sheepishly stood like a schoolboy who had forgotten his milk money at a Monday morning rogering ceremony. 'Hi Journoman, I was wondering if you'd brought along your inflatable trousers?' 'Why yes little Tim but they only stretch to a size 40 waist.' He looked down at his manly thighs ' 40 eh??? er yep they will fit fine'' 'Then my friend they are yours for the race. I will pop down to the DB5 and pick them up'.

Richard, followed looking perplexed. 'I thought that you were helping me Journoman', that fat sod will be 5 stone lighter wearing your inflatable trousers!' I turned, the sunlight glinting on my reacterlight shades. 'Richard, I am an old Etonian, and this is England. Fair play shall prevail Sir!!' The look of admiration, nay enlightenment fell upon the face of the young challenger. As I spoke, Mozart's Requiem Mass filled the air. I knew the big piston was upon us. This was to be a defining moment in history.

As the cars waited in the holding area, I leaned into the cockpit of Richard's car. 'Brake late and hard, give that baby all you've got, stay flat through the craners and use the applicator to the steady state lift off, power on situation.................oh and good luck' . Then I saw Tim frantically waiving. I walked over to his car and leant inside. 'bloody hell Timothy, those trousers are blown to bursting point!!' 'Yep Journoman, wev'e put 20000cc of helium in them. I think I weigh 2 stone now, but I'm having trouble moving'

And so the big show down. Green lights. Go!!

As each lap passed it was clear that the trousers were giving Tim a big advantage, he was closing in for the kill. Soon they were side by side and Tim crept into the braking zone for the old hairpin. Suddenly time stood still, the call of the big piston filled my consciousness HMMMMMMMM HMMMMMMMMMMM ' Calling Journoman, calling Journoman' 'What is it oh big piston?, fill me with your knowledge' 'Are you'est some kind of tit ???, I do place all of my heaveny pennies on Westbrook and you'est do give the lightness trousers to the fat boy' My prophecy ist this. If the fat boy do win, you shall be become a ginger leper for all eternity' and You shall only drink from the Asti fountain' My life flashed before me. Mater, Pater, Matron, Nanny, turnips, Father O'Mally and his wandering hands............ It was too much. I quickly ran to the DB5, grabbed the applicator remote and pressed the 'anti inflatable trouser button. In an instant, a tiny homing dart flew towards the huge trousers in tim's car. In a flash it was all over. His full 18 stone again, he was far too deep into the corner to stop and smashed into the side of Westbrooks car before spinning off to retire.

And so Richard was Champion. I called to the big piston 'Oh great one, I have done your bidding, am I to bear your wrath even now? ' No Journoman, you hast been true to me and so you shall not be the ginger king. Now go away for i is't busy.

As I walked to the Aston, contemplating the nightmare of a life drinking Asti, I saw Tim sitting miserably on the bonnet of his Cup car. He called a sad farewell as I walked by.

'Bloody Hell Tim, I wouldn't sit there if I were you, you'll go through it !! He spoke a a few words, but i did not understand either of them, but he reminded me in some strange way of little Tinky Winky.


Journoman says L O