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Issue 64
July 2005
The Michelin fiasco of motoring, every month
OBITUARY: FORMULA 1 (1950 - 2005)
Sniff Petrol is saddened to report the tragic death of Formula 1 motor racing. Following a long decline, F1 finally passed away in America on Sunday 19 June. The sport was surrounded by fans and family. Although Formula 1 had been suffering from several maladies and needless complications for some time, the actual cause of death is yet to be confirmed. Many suggest it may have been hastened by being repeatedly abused and shat upon by a Prancing Horse, but it is believed that the once-loved sport's actual demise was brought on by a number of other factors including dangerously swollen egos, over exertion caused by money grabbing, and a bad reaction to certain kinds of rubber. Some close to F1 are already pointing the finger at those who were meant to care for the ailing sport, and in particular Dr Max Mosley. Critics allege that Mosley himself was in no fit state of health for the position, suffering as he was from several osteopathic ailments including a weak spine and severe inflexibility. "F1 needed a taste of its own medicine to wake it from a fat, lazy sleep," noted Maurice Ital of Every Other Sunday magazine. "Since Michelin were involved perhaps this could have been administered in true French style, as a suppository. Or, to put it another way, Max Mosley can shove the whole thing up his arse".

A man with blood on his hands, yesterday
Following revelations that MG Rover management may inadvertently have given the rights to the MG TF sports cars to Chinese company SAIC, there was further Birmingham-based embarrassment this week with news that the company has accidentally sold former boss John "Austin" Towers to a Chinese takeaway in Bromsgrove. It had been assumed that Mr Towers was busy assisting the official receivers with the break up of the car company he once controlled. Now it seems he is in fact serving crispy duck, Szechuan beef and prawn crackers to people who enjoy ordering too much food and then feeling a bit sick. Whilst the unintentional company chairman giveaway may be bad news for whatever remaining bits of MG Rover that were so nailed down he hadn't already flogged them for cash, Towers' unexpected new role is said to be even worse for customers of the Golden Panda. "This is just ridiculous," said one unhappy customer last night. "I ordered a 3, a 17 and a 45. So what he's gone and given me is pancakes and fried rice, all smeared on top of an old Honda with a chrome grille on the front. I wouldn't mind so much, but my bill came to �5.60 which is twice the bloody re-sale value".
Towers gets to work, yesterday
There was shock in Blackpool this week with news that pubescent TVR owner Nikolai Smolenski has had a tantrum and sacked himself. Since he took over the sports car maker last year, the teenage squillionaire has fired several high ranking members of his staff but this latest dismissal is his most brutal yet. Sources close to the acne wracked autocrat say Smolenski had been dissatisfied with the direction in which he was taking the company and that on at least one occasion this had caused him to come to blows with himself. The situation reached breaking point earlier this week when the young Russian decided that he didn't agree with his own decision to have some Dairylea dunkables for his lunch. It was the final straw and he had himself thrown out of the factory soon afterwards. As yet it is unclear how Smolenski's self sacking will affect TVR, although the pubic businessman has made it clear that he will not be responsible for his actions if he sees himself in the factory again. Aides say, the grumpy teen has now retreated to his bedroom to consider his future, and also to write a poem about why girls don't fancy him.
Smolenski about to ask himself for the stuff off his desk, yesterday
Contrary to current rumour, and seemingly every edition of Auto Express at the moment, BMW's next generation Mini will in fact be a lot bigger than the current model, at least according to one completely made-up scientist who always appears in Sniff Petrol. Professor Ken Freeply of Nigel Havers College, Kettering claims that instead of merely growing slightly to take account of new legislation and packaging requirements, the forthcoming third generation of the popular fashion car will in fact expand in all directions to become pretty big. "It's quite simple," Prof Freeply explained. "The current Mini is almost 20 percent longer than the original Mini. Therefore, using a special equation which I have just thought of, the next generation model will grow by a similar amount, making it as big as a 3-series. This in itself is rather worrying, but that's nothing to the terrifying prospect we face if we extrapolate this generation-on-generation growth. I think we must face up to the certain knowledge that the sixth or seventh generation Mini will be 700 feet long. Or something." However, the clearly mental brainiac had some more reassuring news for those alarmed by his size-based findings. "Happily, I have also noticed that the gap between the original Mini and the launch of the new car was 42 years. So by the time the scary Mini that will crush us all comes along it will be the year 2211". Prof Freeply later denied that actually the next Mini is launched next year and that his maths was "rubbish".
A future Mini, destroying London in the future, yesterday
Och aye the noo muthafuckers! Crazy Dave comin' atcha with the mixed up flava of Red Bull. It give you wings maaan. An' also heart palpitations. Well shee-it, I had a bad ass month and I ain't messin' witcha. So we go Stateside for da India-motherfuckin'-napolis Grand Prix and da muthas at Michelin, they gone forgot to bring the right rubber. That ain't a problem Crazy Dave ever had, know wha' sayin'? The bitches love me. Yea. They wan' mix up the track so we don't have no crash and Crazy Dave, he say, I ain't goin' through no chicane, fool. So I jus' lays it slow on the parade and straigh' into the damn pits, fuck that shit, you catch me? Fortunately this allowed me to catch an earlier flight home to the hotel that I own in Monte Carlo.
� 2005. Sniff Petrol every month. Next issue 5 August
Written by Sniff Petrol, with thanks to Stephen Grant, Neil Taylor, Alan Ripley and Poo
Our used car expert talks about Christ knows what.

Rub my basket, it's Terry outside and that means Garys are pumping for cloth. Here are four moist flapcacks to put some wax in your Janet:

VW Golf cabrio: Parping casket, lovely smell, sturdy unit, bummed a tramp. I think he's just eaten the candles. Tasty.

Volvo C70 cabrio: Fancy Alan, funny knees, porn crack nasty, hmmm. Oh God it's his ex-wife, hide the spaniels. Grunty.

Mercedes CLK cabrio: Messy exit, firm stirrings, stiff back. Yes. And it all came out in one smooth movement. Mildly.

SAAB 9-3 cabrio: Wet burping, nice action, flaccid bastard. Hey. Don't look now but that's Mike Yarwood. Minty.