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J'AIME NOVEMBER 2018

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F E AT U R E<br />

Tanks, but no tanks!<br />

JACK REGAN, A CREATIVE AT TITAN. THE ADVERTISING AGENCY IN BIRMINGHAM, TAKES A MORE<br />

ADRENALINE-FUELLED APPROACH TO LIFE. THIS MONTH’S HE’S DOING BATTLE... WITH A TANK<br />

Good God Almighty, but this is all a bit too far<br />

above and beyond the call of duty, for a chap of my<br />

vintage, is it not?! No, no, no this is just not cricket at<br />

all.<br />

I'm driving a fifteen ton tank, for crying out loud!<br />

Yes, A TANK! Gone a bit mutton jeff, here,<br />

sorry! SORRY, VICAR, IT'S THIS INFERNAL<br />

BLOODY RACKET! Flat out, pedal to the metal,<br />

bouncing about like a pinball inside this growling,<br />

hulking behemoth, the sweat cascading out of me<br />

and some war-torn, 'Nam fixated commander type<br />

nutter shouting and bawling directions at me down<br />

my headphones while two lily-livered pansies behind<br />

me are whimpering into their comfort blankets about<br />

the quality of my driving, fcs! The fumes in here are<br />

potent enough to KO Zammo McGuire offa Grange<br />

Hill and, to top it all off, there's some sniggering posh<br />

boy careening, spiral-eyed right behind us in another<br />

tank, trying to bazooka us all to oblivion or beyond!<br />

This is a blitzkrieg to the senses like few experiences<br />

one could ever dare imagine.<br />

And it's just so aggressively deafening and effin'<br />

and jeffin' LOUD in here too. And everything's too<br />

smotheringly, overbearingly close around you. It's...<br />

actually it's a bit like being trapped inside a drunken<br />

American, is what it is. Sweet, I suppose, if that<br />

American's called Kardashian but not if it's called<br />

Sherman! No siree!<br />

But I'm trying to chill. I am! I'm trying to focus here.<br />

Just bare with me here for a tick ‘til I, y'know, ‘til I<br />

sort myself out a tad.<br />

It's all a bit frantic this armoured vehicle lark, isn't it?<br />

All a bit frenetic and discombobulating when you're<br />

used to driving a clapped out Prius, like me.<br />

Sure, yes, it had all sounded like good clean fun when<br />

the column was suggested too. All very sedate and<br />

Dad's Army and all that.<br />

The tanks are from the Seventies, so I reckoned<br />

there'd be more chance of the steering wheel falling<br />

off than of one of these things ever working up a<br />

decent head of steam again.<br />

Now I have a heavily bruised coccyx to prove just<br />

how wrong I was about that. And, yes, that's every bit<br />

as painful as it sounds, thank you very much. Matter<br />

56

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