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Aint' it just a shame this whole Myspace milarky’s been forgotten about? Once upon a time checking the Myspaz was as important, if not more, than going for a slash… and now everyone’s just jumping on the Facebook bandwagon ‘sigh’.Sooo it’s time for an update, and seeing as only 13-year-olds are left on here it probably wont get read : ) For the past four years I’ve been a motoring scum, or a journalist as they’re sometimes politely called. I’m currently re-living WW2 being controlled by Zee Germans, or Bauer as they’re known… but it’s not all gas masks and badness – it’s quite good at times!Max Power magazine is my ‘weapon of choice’ and if I’m not busy doing bits to my environment-loving Mazda RX7 I’m busy writing captions in the mag to get us lawsuits, which is nice. Contrary to popular belief we don’t have naked women floating round the office – queer men, yes, so boys step up.Aside from that, it’s a normal(ish) job, that’s if you considered putting your head in a deep fat fryer normal but you get the idea.
As with any job, it's hard work. You put in alot of extra hours, tear your hair out with writers block (hence why i keep mine so thick) and generally go a little bit looney.However, despite being an unqualified buffoon who happens to like cars, i've managed to blag a bit of driving experience in some half decent cars that at least make me sound like a 'journalist', even though i can't drive for shit. Bored? These include: E92 and E30 BMW M3, Nissan 350Z, Mitsubishi Evo 9 FQ 320, Impreza STI, Focus ST, Astra VXR, Lexus GS400, Civic Type-R, Lotus Elise and the ol' trusty Ford Transit - what a machine...
If you squint, i almost look like i know what i'm doing... almost.
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Spend more than 30 seconds talking to me (or 5 seconds during a night out) and you'll probably gather a keen interest for alcomohol. Why? Well aside from blatantly making you cool (anything advised against by the gouverment is COOL), it also allows the alter-ego of 'Mark the cunt' come out, a bit like Jeckel and Hyde. To make matters worse, i'm surrounded by a group of morally-challenged friends known as the 'gheys', who bizarrely enjoy the same thing! These include el presidente Simon, nudity-obsesed Chris, predator Sam and adhd Lindsey.
Together we're possibly the biggest idiots around, and that's before booze. But that's us, like it or lump it, we'll be the ones spraying airfresher on the dance floor, spitting in each others mouths or smashing glasses during a scene that resembles coyote ugly and a greek wedding. God knows what we'd be like in uni, it's probably why fete led us all to go into full-time employment.
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Simon, Sam, Chris and me... the 'gheys', but not literally bar Simon and Chris.
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I have a girlfriend, i would say better half but that's unfair on her to even bring her down to my level. Her name's Rhian aka Rhi-tard. She enjoys the 'odd' tipple with her friends including Carly the cocktail maker and Gem, the fookin' blackman-grinding cider enthusiast. Rhitard's a bit lovely really. She can drive, which i've tested many times including a trip to Wellingborough at 5am, and well, she makes me smile like an absolute queer. Once we've got the heroin additiction sorted we'll be on the home and dry...
I'd like to think i'm a friendly enough chap, just so long as you don't blind me with your cunting foglights or try and squeeze infront of me on a filter lane, wanker. I'm a gentle giant who often drinks/dances/shouts/abuses at weekends, but in the nicest possible way (if that exists?). I'm an opiniated shit who often looks at things logically, which has its pros and cons. Take rape for example (i can get away with this here as most people gave up reading about the cars). Did i say i enjoy the odd drink? Yup, and as much to keep up to peoples expectations as my own enjoyment. Why else would the likes of glitter, mascara, pirates, bangles, builders hats, golf clubs, a14 signposts and hubcaps be involved in nights out?

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Me, Rhian and wine; the three elements of tardness.
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Fuck yeah... touch me?