What sort of car twat are you?

WITH so many makes and models there are lots of ways to be a car-owning twat. But what sort of vehicular twattery is right for you? Read our guide.

Thrifty twat

You have a decent income but hate spending money so you drive a 90s Golf or ancient Volvo that leaves a plume of black smoke like a squid under attack. You’re such a tightarse you’ll endure endless breakdowns until it completely falls apart like a clown car.

Show-off twat

You love people staring at your Porsche Spyder or Aston Martin. Sadly the kudos quickly wears off whenever you get out and everyone realises you’re a portly middle-aged businessman in ironed jeans who’s been rocking out to Chris Rea.

Wide boy twat

You drive a Beemer or Merc. You like to imagine you look like a successful drug dealer. You are not. You work in a shop and are skint as usual so you’re driving over for dinner at your mum’s yet again.

Illegal twat

You lurch around the streets in an uninsured 1980s Ford Escort with no MOT or hubcaps. Other drivers dread an accident with you, but to be honest a minor bump will probably reduce your ride to a pile of rust flakes and an old Shakin’ Stevens cassette.

Boy racer twat

You’ve modified your Citroen Saxo or Honda Civic so much it’s technically a different car. Your proudest achievement is dicking around with the exhaust so other road users think they’re being overtaken by Apollo 7.

Anal retentive twat

Your Qashqai or Skoda gives you a sexual thrill when you think about the resale value and excellent miles-per-gallon. You love to talk at length about fools who spent more on an Audi with the same boot space. Your wife is going to leave you.

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Teenager's accent changes dramatically when parents leave the house

THE neighbours of a well-spoken teenager have noticed his accent radically alters when his parents are not around.

17-year-old Tom Logan’s speech transforms from middle-class ‘nice boy’ into hardened South London ‘roadman’ the minute his parents go to their well-paid jobs or Waitrose.

Neighbour Julian Cook said: “Today I heard Tom say, ‘Bye mum. I’ll finish off the leftover quinoa and feta salad if that’s okay with you.’

“But when one his mates came over a bit later I distinctly heard him saying things like, ‘Shut up fam, she’s proper peng ting.’

“I thought perhaps his parents had hired a Chinese tutor, but when I heard him describe our stockbroker suburb as his ‘endz’ I realised it was just middle-class teenager identity bollocks.”

Logan said: “My parents could never accept the fact that despite being able to play the bassoon I’m actually very street.  

“Private school isn’t immune to turf wars. The beef between the badminton team and the debating society mandem is bare peak.”