#230 – Cross-Promotions
6
06
2011
Despite its serene and benevolent exterior, the bogan is a seething pit of hatred. It despises the task of fact checking, it reviles independent information sources. And it is downright disgusted by any smartarse who claims to have figured out anything that the bogan has not. As a result, the bogan is fertile ground for an elaborate web of corporate cross-promoting that it remains entirely oblivious to. This pleaseth the marketer.
The bogan elects to snuggle itself entirely within the willing arms of three commercial TV stations, one News Limited online portal, and one News Limited print newspaper. Never leaving the advertising matrix for a moment, the bogan develops a self-concept that is inextricably linked to the products that are pitched at its age, gender, and aspirational segment. The bogan’s ego skyrockets when it purchases what it is told do, but when it purchases a product with more than one branding, the maths enters the realm of quantum boganics. A cross-promotion between any two things that the bogan likes is enormously soothing to the bogan, offering it a synchronised and seamless way to dispose of all of its available dollars and hours, along with some that shouldn’t be available at all.
The marketer’s ability to install new things that bogans like via cross promotion is about the best way to overcome the bogan’s distrust of change. Got a car racing format that is struggling in a crowded marketplace? Get P!nk to gyrate in a TV ad for it. Trying to endear a turgid new RnB chanteuse to the bogan market? Promote it on Video Hits by offering a prize of a max obnoxious stereo system from Sony that the bogan already wants.
Cross-promotion can move into the realms of media also, as Today Tonight and A Current Affair will routinely report on the goings on of the Chaser, or Chris Lilley’s upcoming show, or, of course, what happened last night on Masterchef. Likewise, without the advent of Underbelly to maintain the bogan’s awareness of Australian maxtreme criminality, the Herald Sun and Daily Telegraph would struggle to remain in business.
All of this purchasing of related items is likely to make the bogan hungry, and when it marches its brood down to McDonald’s, the bogan’s children demand a Happy Meal, which is subsidised by the Disney corporation via whatever Pixar is peddling this school holidays, or a action toy for every murdered gangster in the Underbelly cast. Figurine in hand, the child demands to see the movie, the celeb scoop for which the bogan saw on the Today show the previous week. Orange plasticine puppet Richard Wilkins also told the bogan about the latest Underbelly cast exclusive in Woman’s Day magazine, which features shock snaps of a Nine network personality eating McDonalds with a new lover. All of this frenetic gossip-discovering has made the bogan hungry.
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haha; I love the cross promo with thingsgothshate!
You guys are too awesome!
I think the bogan has widened it’s viewing, now the big three TV stations have had pups. They can enjoy the De’ Ja Vu of their misspent youth by watching reruns of Mc Ivor & Magnum Force on their maxxscreens, convincing themselves once more of their superiority & introducing their sprogs to how problems should be solved…. with force & if need be, a very big gun.
Oh, I see what you did there.
Or if force or a very big gun fails they will teach the sprogs to be maxtreme by cooking snags between their teeth using an electric current!
The day the Home and Away badged Chevadore shows up Bogantopia will have been achieved.
Hungry Bogan’s are the most frightening of all…
They’re always hungry Pinky, that’s why they are fat! Have you ever seen a bogan not nomming or sucking on something?
I worry more when the huge She-Bogan is without food in her mouth or her hand…and god forbid that little MikekayLah should be left waiting for her large big mac meal with coke. You know how grumpy 2 year olds get when they are hungry…
What is in an Underbelly Happy Meal?
Carl’s liver?
I was thinking Bangers ‘n’ Mash, disco biscuits, Vodka Red Bull, that sort of thing. Replica sawn off shotty for the kids. Mini pill stamp for the teens.
Ya forgot Boobs Panda, Underbelly has to have boobs.
Perhaps they could include a set of plastic falsies Simon?
Good for boys & girls alike… :_p
False boobs for the girls & false Matt Newton arse cheeks for the boys. Fun for the whole family.
the shotty would be for the boys, pole dancing kit for the girls.
so the boys end up doing hand loading and the girls do hand unloading ? for thr boys its a win win;bogan sort of odds
Or for the maxxtreme underwater bogan….
I don’t even know what that is. Kudos Vivv. (Well I do recognize that there is a human being in the picture, and I do recognize water when I see it).
It’s the rest that doesn’t make sense. One size fits some (none ?) goldfish-bowl space-helmets though an icon of 1960’s science fiction haven’t really caught on in serious astronautic endeavours because their failure to a) keep the air in and b) keep the not-air out. I’m glad I logged on today. Thanks.
“Orange plasticine puppet Richard Wilkins”
Worth it for that comment alone. Although, to be honest, he is trumped by the hero bogan weatherman in Sydney, Tim Bailey, the most tandoori chicken tainted bondi surfer in the world:
and those hipster goggles…
bravo.
I used to watch Tim Bailey’s basketball show when I was a kid. Even then I knew he was ridiculously orange.
When you think about it there are lots of missed cross promotion opportunities
Collingwood FC – Dentures are us
Cronulla Sharks – Domestic violence hotline
Labour – Fairies are real books
Mc Donalds – For the larger women boutiques
One that you’ll love Simon – the Sharks have their own betting service, kinda like TAB only with better odds and the club keeps the money. Very appropriate.
And yes, I have given it plenty of my money.
I hope they do not have that stupid 18 rule like tab or the like. Bogans need to learn to lose their money at a young age.
They didn’t ask me for my age when I signed up.
Then again, with my hair and goatee I never get carded. I guess I should be glad they’re not throwing me in Villawood.
I just chucked another $50 in today on Game 4 of the NBA Finals.
And made it all back and some. This gambling thing is fun.
https://thingsboganslike.com/2009/11/02/16-uninformed-gambling/
I’ve admitted to as much many times.
In my defense, I only bet on sports I understand and know very well (league, cricket, basketball and gridiron).
You’re like our embedded corespondent Ash.
Simon,
Maybe Ash should have a friendly chat with Viv ?? Become a real embedded co respondent
We’d have to ask Mr Viv first.
Ash,
If you gamble then you are earning too much
Oh, James Hunter, that’s something you’ll never have to worry about. Not the ‘too much’, rather, the ‘earning’…
Oh Petey Boy, your idea of “Earning” is sadly off. Not everyone can make money from imparting missives on the virtues of Austrian Cabbage.
It’s not ‘Oh Petey Boy’ (or Oh James Hunter) it’s Oh, James Hunter. The enunciation resembles eww, (James Hunter) and infers a reaction to distasteful behaviour such as when James Hunter farts – something I’m sure he does all the time.
Ash,
Be careful as you may end up being stalked by a cabbage !! Thing to rember : “Only thing worse then someone who farts a lot ( like Austrian cabbage eaters) is someone who continually dribbles shit ” ! Bahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah
not wishing to play the pedant, but it would probably be fair to say that Things Goths Hate is up to over 200 posts now. Merely claiming 150 is fart oo modest.
‘turgid new RnB chanteuse’ – that should be an upcoming listing!
Does anyone know anyone who’s won any of those VideoHits cross promos?
Ooh, I do hope the Sony system I’m in the running for comes with MEGABASS!
somewhere deep inside me remains a morsel of Universal Human Compassion, so, if I care to think about it, I can feel sorry for the bogan. On the whole, humans are pretty much idiots, anyone with half a brain and a little bit of charisma can pretty much get any group of humans to do anything, so the bogan itself is just a product of the Boganisation we so regularly malign. A special kind of hatred nestles in my viscera, no doubt alongside the Morsel of Human Compassion, for those who foist the whole shitty mess on us. The Advertising Matrix. You think Richard Wilkins hangs out with the mouth breathing Dullards who take interest in his work? You think Alan Jones wants to chat away the evening with that Obese Bigoted Cab Driver from Drummoyne who reckons Jonesey’s got the Gospel? Is Tony Abbot going to be up for Toss The Boss on a Friday Night with hard working boys at Port Latta? The greedy cynical maggots who know what they’re doing, but just don’t give a shit. Whether they’re selling War, Cars, Halloween Costumes or Fear & Doubt, they’ll cheerfully lead the poor dumb schmucks down whatever path kicks up the most gold dust. Maybe 2% of the intellect inherent in humanity is bent to doing decency and good and the rest is greed.
Call me naieve and romantic, but most humans are pretty ok face to face, surely they deserve better than just a heaps bigger telly to watch fU@king ads on.
It’s no longer just the peasants wallowing in shit, it’s virtually unavoidable.
If aliens did turn up I’d be embarrassed. Unless they are just here for the shopping.
Not too many obese bigoted cab drivers can afford to live in Drummoyne, Caek!
A part of me doesn’t blame them, there’s only so many bogans you can take before something inside of you just goes and you long to have the power to hurt them and manipulate them.
You will soon realise that bogans like what is being done to them. They like the abuse – they are not like you and I. They are fully aware of the risks of drink-driving (should be an entry here), eating copious amounts of unhealthy food, not saving any money and provoking their neighbours. If the bogan didnt want to inflict damage upon themselves – they wouldnt. If someone else locks them into a pyramid scam, sells them a stupid product or steals their uninsured HSV ute, dont feel bad – the bogan wanted this to happen. Will they learn from their mistake? Heck no, they dont want to either. If you take money away from the bogan, you have a responsibility to invest that money into a more responsible way.
*like*
+1. I’ve found the bogan respects greaseball machievellian behaviour. Their attitude is usually that they would do it if they could.
I worry about the alien archeologists turning up after we’re gone, and extrapolating what we were about from the thousands of cubic kilometres of plastic in landfill and everywhere else we have yudged up with the stuff. I suspect that they would conclude that the sophonts who did this (us) were fairly stupid and worthless.
I’d be more worried if they found us to be maxXxtreme.
If that’s the case, what sort of society would they have?
Like a fairground crowd, I would imagine. They arrive in the morning, and depart in the evening, leaving behind a field full of garbage. Have you ever cleaned up after the Australia Day fireworks? If so, you’ll know what I mean.
arthur c clarke’s law (?) – that any alien technology would be indistinguishable (to us) from magic- makes me ponder the obverse; whether such an advanced civilisation would consider us sophont at all.
(wif thanx for the new word 🙂 .)
The bogan is a caricature of ourselves, you rarely meet someone that as completely ridiculous as the representation of a bogan on this site, however everyone at least some of the time expresses some of these traits. This is good satire and should make us consider who we are and who we want to be, however you need to be careful not to look down your nose at the bogan all the time, he must hold some redeeming characteristics lest we are doomed.
Rarely meet?
Oh, how I wish I could agree with you. *sigh*
I’m with Mick (no O) on this one.
micko, mate, I invite you to take a tour of Miranda Fair with me on a Saturday (you’re buying me food cause that or a movie is the only way you’ll ever get me in that shithole) and then tell me that bogans as this site imagines them don’t exist.
Sorry, forgot to do so under my new name. I’m on my home computer now – that one was at work. Gotta christen my new work computer and all given that I just scored myself a sweet job.
Oh, do tell more about your new job, Ash! Does it involve contact with bogans?
A sweet job, involving bogans?
There must be a way of levelling the playing field then…. A built in revenge perhaps, for those times when you have to do something or go mad.
😛
I have every confidence that Ash will find a way!
Haha, no, no bogan interaction whatsoever. I’m working in a student union FFS. Editing a new zine.
Congrats, Ash. 🙂 Just don’t be like the commo-lesbo-pinko-vegos who ran Tharunka when I was a student at UNSW back in the 1990s and publish photos of human turds in the name of “art”. That was just disgusting.
On the other hand, don’t stoop to become a journal that is the bastard product of a South Park Republican meeting Quadrant.
That would generate interest amongst boganesque Young Fogeys; not so much those of the youth who parade about in granddad’s baggy tweeds and drive to Mass in a Morris Minor, but more those young folk with attitudes and views that are alike of some hardbitten Hansonite Baby Boomer in regional Australia, full of inarticulate vituperation and venom misdirected at usually the end victims, resplendent with respective hokey homespun half-truth remedies for those perceived maladies, all of which have a grandma dash measure of “fück ’em!”…those Young Fogeys, 18 going on 81.
Haha, Turnips – if my political leanings could be mapped they would probably be the Australian equivalent of the South Park Republican.
I have no time for Young Fogeys like you mentioned, just like I have no time for commie-pinko-lesbo-vegos.
Aren’t student unions full of hipsters Ash? They were in my day, oh so long ago.
Yeah, watch that you don’t get yourself lynched Ash.
If you get into trouble, just say you’re a Muslim. Libtards love Muslims.
My office is mostly careerist types. Only the design guys are hipsters and one of them is into metal so I’m OK.
And I look pretty Muslim right now, so I’m good. Most of them can’t tell that my surname is Hindu anyway.
Although I was outed on my first day as a card-carrying Shire bogan (I have a big Sharks sticker on my laptop) and the big boss (who my supervisor reports to) is a St George fan, so she’s making it her job to ensure my life is a living hell.
And yes, she’s a fat bogan careerist type.
like that delicious Waleed Ali.
he’s the ginchiest.
In a reasonably distant time—eight years ago, to be exact—when I was in a state of psychic depletion less than a year after my Dad’s passing, stuck in an existential void with a lot of money swirling about, I started to embrace the idea of retail therapy, despite this concept being antithetical to my relatively nascent leftist proclivities.
Hey, in other words, I was fücking miserable and thought I could purchase happiness at Hardly Normal and West Coast HiFi.
What’s this got to do with cross-promotion?
Well, in my vulnerable state of ennui, I somehow ended up getting hooked into Big Brother, not only watching the entire Season 3, but participating in the fora as well. What a degeneration for someone who’s been an avowed Friend of the ABC since I was a mere child, well before my pinko side began to emerge inchoate! Then again, I tended to play devil’s advocate, rather than merely troll, adding some critique and provocative-yet-informed discussion to a field of otherwise anodyne acolytes who just lurved BB‘s contestants without thought. Which was fun, as I developed a small clique of fellow pseudo-intellects…well, as much as can be expected from the general catchment of viewers, of whom consisted of about ≥3% of those who could be considered to have brains (yes, there were a few sad-sack brainiacs who did indeed find BBcompulsive viewing, but I was verily a sad-sack at the time!). Much banter and witty repartee followed, lots of subtle codes and in-jokes brewing in the background.
Until I overstepped the mark one time. Not with my fellow forum fringedweller thinkers, but with the moderators, of whom tolerated the wily sotto voce of us malcontents, so long as it was just that, not enough to frighten the packhorses. But I did, which had not only my comment bowdlerised, but also saw me permanently banned from further comments.
Why?
No, there was not a single expletive uttered in anger or otherwise. All I did was make a complete mockery of all their sponsors, in suggesting perhaps setting up another house with less-telegenic (and more insightful) contestants, but with different products, describing all the manifold competitor’s brands items to be contained within in minute detail, right down to suggesting that the evictees eating Red Rooster (instead of sponsor KFC) be driven off in a Ford Transit as opposed to (I think) a Mercedes-Benz van. All in the name of jamming a red-hot poker in the eye of Big Brother himself in the flagrance of their cross-promotions in the home, compelling contestants to consume exclusively their products. Wanna eat Sanitarium? Tough. You’re stuck with Uncle Toby’s (if my memory recalls); saying that without even being so bold to say that, more like “Woke up today, cameras behind the one-way glass watching me sup my Weet Bix [rather than, if it were indeed sponsored by Goodman Fielder, then owners of Uncle Toby’s] and Dairy Farmers milk [instead of, say, Pura]…” and so forth, having compiled a complete day, ending up on the stage as the latest evictee, gathering their opposite bankroller’s loot. That, folks, is what gave me the bum’s rush from the forum.
During viewing the show, my intellectual and critical faculties hadn’t entirely taken leave of absence, for it was an opportunity to deconstruct and analyse the whole whoremongering exercise, in which despite subjugating myself to the pox-ridden and cum-glazed carcass of lowest-common denominator commercial television, I able to use that as a cathartic exercise in irony, p1ssing all over it, too enraged to even go to the trouble of bothering to summon a huckstering attempt to persuade them that golden showers are the latest “in” kink…I just had the desire to relieve my resentful metaphoric bladder, knowing that although they might be able to mask the urine odour, the sense of humiliation, in full knowledge that even their sponsors’ products, once consumed, must come out the other end.
It was great to simultaneously take the p1ss and p1ss in their scrofulous faces (revealed as fugly once the subsidised beauty products upon said visage were micturated upon)…my work was done, vindication mine when the show was axed. Probably more to do with sponsors pulling out, rather than either nosediving ratings and moral panic over “turkey slapping” and compulsive swearing.
I was in a similar state when I watched a large portion of the first one.
I guess what I took away from it, and having occassionally glanced at later series was that if you want to win, without the bogan hating your guts, is that you have to be extremely boring and impartial and have no opinions or flavour to yourself at all. This is based on the types of people who actually won the show.
The bogan hates itself because even Miss Bumdance didn’t win. As far as bogans go she was almost likeable.
I’ve met Sara-Marie (Bumdancer Extraordinaire) when she worked for a, um, gentlemen’s club, as the club manager in charge of the ladies (but she didn’t dance and divest her garments). A good friend and I had to arrange for our mutual friend’s bucks night back in 2000, so we made our tawdry plans through her…I found her to be a most genial and pleasant person to deal with; in fact, I’d go in occasionally just to say “hi” and have a chat, as I also only lived up the road from this venue in North Perth at the time.
As for the dancers, well, most of those alleged “hotties” brought on a raging soft-on for me, as scrawny mixed with skanky doesn’t do it for me at all, but a few did appreciate my acquaintance, as I was perhaps about the only person, at any given time, who could be described as one of their putative gentlemanly clients as present—I wouldn’t be giving attempting to ravish them by an ogling stare, like the usual CUB punters would. Instead, I would talk to the dancers as normal human beings, of which I’m sure some clearly appreciated
After Sara-Marie left, I totally lost interest in the joint, my latent views on gender equality (then requiring a lot of self-justification) only hastening the ease of not wishing to return, though having some of the dancers see me as a shoulder to cry on did feed my then codependent-enabler nature. But otherwise, those visits did confer some valuable insights into bogan behaviour; never was I accosted by any, so that was alright, though I did silently groan many a time when I would see those boorish yobs make furtive attempts to go the grope upon them, despite being clearly told not to. No wonder why I got on famously with the bouncers. But all that strip club nonsense is well behind me now and I wouldn’t even dream of having such a dreary affair held if I ever have a buck’s night…speaking of which, that buck’s night for my mate back then was something of a time for me that Ash might be proud of, insomuch as I drank myself silly in a 13-hour bender (≈30 standard drinks, shifted gears too often all night at that!), last man standing. Until I had to sit on toilet with a bucket, all orifices open at 8 AM the following morning.
Nor did I take up watching BB in its inaugural season: I hadn’t become completely messed up yet, nor did I particularly want to be a fly on the wall with Sara-Marie’s time in the house, as it felt a little too invasive for me, having barely got to know her as a person, thus it just seemed completely wrongarsed to watch.
If I ever need a bit of bogan cred, I just have to tell them that I dated a stripper once. I go from “what the fark is a curry doing in MY pub” to “legend and farkin mad carnt” faster than a HSV hits 100 clicks.
I wish I’d never let her go. But this isn’t the forum.
I got bowdlerised in here.
but it was fair enough.
but for different reasons. (some of the browsing public might not get my peculiar brand of hi wit, iconoclastic, punk ethic, naive, romantic, acerbic, delightfully funny and self deprecating irony.)
(morons)
i was sucked into the BB what had fitzy in it.
I was having a bit of an opiate problem and couldn’t get off the couch at the time. (I got better)
it was oddly compelling (I watched the first ever survivor too) but I was equally conscious of the drivel and shil which comes with the package. an opportunity to deconstruct and analyse the whole whoremongering exercise, consequently I couldn’t do it again. Not without a ton of smack anyway. I’m at the point where I’ve all but given up on TV. I can. not. BEAR. advertisements. and there’s little enough of interest to even be bothered setting it up to record. I watch Monday night abc, there’s a hawking thing on tuesdays, hungry beast, that On Trial is cool… um the odd doco. News24 is droning away in the background as we speak…
anyway
I get my infotainment from the web pretty much and somehow it’s easier to ignore the banners. I have a sh*tfit and close the tab if you try and preload a video ad at me, so don’t bother.
*sigh*
sadly episodes like the demise of big brother only mean the Kraken/Matrix nexus has retired to its foetid lair to plot something even more odious and cynical.
Easier on the psyche to just read a couple of Ben Elton books and have a glass of red
Give a toss,
You are obviously an amature and/or experimental drinker and certainly not a serious reader,
If you have enough red you will not be able to read the book, you will not ,just as likley even find the book.
Caution books very hard to read after dousing in regurgitated red wine so for serious reading drink white wine. If you want to read a book that you realy do not like then drink hot chochalate with large dose of O.P. rum in it.
I thought it was a bit harsh to include Chris Lilley in the cross promotional rant, until I saw a commercial on lowest common denominator TV last night. Zoo Weekly is featuring “Daniel from Angry Boys favourite Zoo Girls”. Do bogans realise he’s a character?
I thought Nathan was the horny one.
I was introduced to Lilley’s work by a bogan who swore “we can be heroes” was factual.
“you gotta see these idiots Mate.”
Has anyone seen the Fairfax article / new book denying the existence of the bogan?
http://www.theage.com.au/opinion/society-and-culture/bogans-reindeers-theyre-the-same-to-me-20110606-1fp94.html
Comment of the day:
Could anything be more patronising than writing a book about people who will never read it?
Sweet Jesus, poor semi intellectual handwringing, judging by the article on the author. Actually he sounds like Peter of Kensington.
What an idiot. Who the f$ck said Assange is a bogan? King libtard more like.
Bogan is not defined well enough? How about 230 entries on TBL plus a summary.
No wonder book shops are going out of business, most of the books are written by idiot libtards like this bloke.
Simon, good point, because being a bogan can very well apply to any rich person, they don’t like it, and are now trying to diffuse the bogan malaise that they now realise they have.
“Quantum Boganics.”
Tee-hee.
A case study in mystifying cross(crass?)-promotion:
Bikini-clad Hollywood slutlet and star of such films as – uh, well, can’t name one off the top of my head, but, uh, I’m sure there’s been a few, oh wait, of course, how could I forget her semi-autobiographical role as the sassy Bunny Lebowski? Anyhow it was Tara Reid alongside an extinct, flightless, shoddily-animated bird, shilling for two-bit Aussie internet provider, Dodo…
Weren’t no Bob Hoskins and Jessica Rabbit, that’s for sure. And lacked the chemistry of Paula Abdul and that Top Cat-type character.
Definitely the most baffling cross-promotion ever. Must’ve been hard times for the poor woman. I hope that she will someday learn to live on her allowance, which is ample, but if she doesn’t, sir, that will be her problem, not mine, just as your rug is your problem, just as every bum’s lot in life is his own responsibility regardless of whom he chooses to blame.
Wait, does Tara’s starring role as bawdy internet enabler fall under the bogan brolly of cross-promotion or mere celebrity endorsement? What’s the difference between the two? Get me a marketer!
Also, apologies for disparaging use of the word “slut”. I have the utmost respect for that subversive pocket of womynhood and its noble struggle to have the word revert to its initial status as an empowering four-letter totem of female emancipation.
One of the earlier examples of cross promotion, or cross branding, clearly aimed at bogans that I can remember is the Nissan Pulsar Reebok. Somehow branding a small hatchback after a made-in-China ‘designer’ sports shoe made it enormously popular with the bogans.
…And lest we forget the Suzuki Vitara Alpine Edition of the early 1990s, which had the “ALPINE” car audio make’s typeface emblazoned along the lower flanks of each side.
Which made it ridiculously easy for potential car thieves to make off with such branded stereo of a decent quality, especially given that many had soft-tops that made forced entry a breeze for even the rank beginner.
Those aforementioned Nissan N13 Pulsars, I believe, were a runout model introduced in mid-1991, to clear the decks for the forthcoming (and ultimately the last Nissan model to be built here, yet actually very good) N14 model that came out around October that year.
(Oops, there’s a fine line trod between car geek and bogan, better quit before I get petrol poisoning…)
Bogans can only tell you about one type of car. Their knowledge base is quite shallow. Know about two and they’ll ask you if you’re a mechanic.
Know about three and they’ll ask you if you know Jeremy Clarkson.
My best mate is a complete car nut (he has a poster of – get this – an Audi Quattro rally car hanging over the sofa where I’m sleeping right now), but yr generally right Mick. Although I’d say it’s two – Holden and Ford – and why one is so superior to the other.
If you’re sleeping right now, how are you typing, Ash?
*disappears into paradox vortex*
Urban,
What about the Valiant Pacer ?
JH, loving the Valiant Pacer is a sign of taste in general. If you don’t, you’re a fool. Those are farkin’ beautiful machines.
I learnt to drive in a VE. Wasn’t a Pacer, but still a sweet old hunk of metal.
Fully agreed, Ash. The Valiants were for those who dared to think outside the GM-H and Ford paradigms, but also wanted a full-sized, American-inspired family hauler and could neither bring themselves to buy something British, Japanese or Continental (which were usually smaller), nor could afford something of similar size from Britain or Europe (or even bigger from Detroit) that was often from a luxury marque and priced accordingly…the Chrysler Valiants were excellent value, looked pretty groovy (compared to the other two Aussie contemporaries) and usually held the highest cards of the local pack for performance right across the range. When Chrysler debuted locally with the R Series Valiant in January 1962, they really shook up the local scene with its wild looks (complete with false spare tyre bulge on the bootlid), choice of pushbutton auto or floorshift manual, commodious interior and a 225 c.i. (3.7 L) slant six with a then mind-boggling 145 h.p. (108 kW)—all of which gave Holden and Ford a much-required kick in the pants, with their respective contemporary EK (the updated “tail-finned” model, with a weedy 75 h.p./55kW from its (even then!) venerable 2.26 L “grey motor” six and the XK Falcon’s marginally more respectable 90 h.p./67 kW wrung out of its 2.36 L six…all of which ensured that this model, of which only 1008 were ever built, sold out within the week, despite being £1299, when an EK Special was about £100 less; this set the stage for the similarly successful S Series, released by March, shifting 10,008 units by the time the more cleanly-styled AP5 Valiant arrived in May 1963.
P.S. Your mate has marvellous taste, Ash, having a poster of an Audi Quattro rally car on the wall! The Impreza WRX and Lancer Evo crowd ought to turn to Ingolstadt every night and pray to Ur (German for “the original”) Quattro, which is the First Being of all AWD rally cars.
Come to think of it, the dear old Vals were the subject of a few tie-ins and cross-promotions: British Formula 1 driver Stirling Moss lent his endorsement to the VG Valiant of 1970 (the last of the boxy ones, which incidentally had the hi-po Pacer model available both as a four-door sedan and two-door hardtop); a VJ Charger was suitably decked-out with a bed opening through to the boot in 1974’s Alvin Purple Rides Again, doubling as a swift getaway vehicle; and of course, we can never forget the cherry red 1976 VK Valiant Regal of Det-Sgt Bluey Hills, a.k.a. Det-Sgt Bargearse, his beloved pursuit vehicle in Bluey/the Bargearse dub-over; incidentally, Chrysler were the official suppliers of vehicles to this show, given their association with Crawford Productions, which resulted in the creation of a one-off VH panel van in 1971 (the only model to have this option was the 1976-78 CL), commissioned for Division 4, then further used in Homicide, Matlock Police, updated with the ’73 VJ front end for Bluey and serving until the first year-or-so of Cop Shop in the late 70s.
I reckon a Valiant Regal similar to Bargearse’s would be a pretty horn car to have; should I ever acquire one, I’d be sorely tempted to break my contrition of no longer owning personalised plates, so I can put “BARGEY” on that Val…that’d be a cool in-joke for all those who remember the D-Gen’s most humorous dismemberment of Bluey in 1993.
I was in JB hifi the other day Bag’o & spotted the Bargearse DVD! All the episodes along with ‘The Olden Days’, (Cash & Co) take-offs.
I dived on it! 😛
divide by zero.
simple.
it’s about the TIME CUBE. you don’t REALiSE WHAT THIS MEANS.
this is not about Ash. 4 CORNER DAYS, CUBES 4 QUAD EARTH- No 1 Day If it takes SIXTEEN hours for a radio signal to reach Voyager, how do photons PENETRATE GLASS? it is a particle which behaves like a WAVE. = Cubic Time.
There is NO paradox.
The 12 hour or 1/2 Day clock is an intended EVIL against humanity -indicting every human on Earth as Dumb, Educated Stupid and Evil -for imaginary Cubed Earth has 4
Days within simultaneous rotation. One God would equal a God Dunce as Humans evolve from Children.
http://www.timecube.com/
You going to share whatever you’re on with the other kids here Moar?
I actually followed all you said, buggered if I know HOW! :-p
It really does make you wonder what the future holds, & makes one question how much of what we believe is true…. if anything.
yeah. I think the future is clear. Either we fry in our own fat or drown in our own effluent, with an outside chance we might blow ourselves up.
based on the empirical evidence.
and I try to take that approach to refining my bullshit filter.
although I do agree that it is possible that none of it’s true, none of it is there, everything is nothing.
that’s comforting.
but unlikely.
I had to get off the “whatever you’re on”
again.
It was interacting badly with my prescribed meds and I had a tiny hint of actual madness. Which answered a question I had long pondered; If you were going crazy would you know it? the answer is yes. If you’ve always been mad however
which brings us back to Time Cube. If no-one has ever actually met a schizophrenic in full flight, that’s what it looks like.
I hope you’re all well again now then?
Edna & the little Caek (Mufinne?) need you, & you really don’t want to miss the learning curve that is parenthood…. 😛
Indeede.
I do want to be present for the whole business.
Bag’O, don’t forget the Carla Zampatti Laser or the Greg Norman Stater!
The Jack Brabham HB Torana.
And that wasn’t even a six-pack like the LC/LJ had, just a poxy ol’ 70 c.i. (1.15 L) OHV engine with an earth-shattering 69 h.p. (51.5 kW) on tap! Cynical marketing bastards at GM-H, even back in ’68!
Toranas are Girls Cars.