We had a visitation from She Who Must's parents last night. They're also from Fife, which maybe explains their choice of caravan -- it's a Marauder 380.2 in cream and pistachio... 'Marauder'? Hello? It's a bloody caravan! Marauder my arse. Picture the marketing meeting where everyone sits round the table, drinking lattés and playing with their ponytails:
Marketing Guy 1: "OK, you guys, we gotta come up with a name for this new caravan."
Marketing Guy 2: "What kinda something?"
MG1: [shrugs] "I dunno, do I? Something that says: 'Caravan'."
MG3: [having a bit of a think] "Hmmm...."
MG2: [pretending to have a think, but actually having a scratch under the table] "Hmmm...."
MG3: "How 'bout: HAPPY ROAMER?"
MG2: "Nah, that sucks ass. How 'bout: SUNNY WANDERER?"
MG1: [pounds fist on desk and looks disgusted] "Jesus, just poke a stick in my eye, why don't you? Naw, we're gonna call it..." [strikes dramatic pose] "MARAUDER!"
MG2 & MG3: [share a startled look] "Marauder?"
MG1: "Yeah! I like it! It's butch and manly. It says, 'I'm a fuckin' caravan driver, don't fuck with me, asshole! You fuck with me: I kill your whole fuckin' family!' That's what we want!"
MG2: "Cool! Let's go do more cocaine off hooker's boobs!"
MG3: "Yay!"
And so on and so forth. Marauder. Can you imagine the Viking hordes pillaging up and down the coast of Britain, dragging their three berth caravans with chemical toilets behind them? And if you're going to call a caravan the Marauder 380.2 (obviously the numbers are there to make it sound like some sort of weapon: Uzi 9mm, Magnum .45, Marauder 380.2 -- see, much more dangerous) the least you can do is paint the damn thing black. Maybe with red flames. And some skulls and crossbones. Not pastel pistachio with a cream roof!
No self-respecting Visigoth would be seen dead in one of those: all his mates would laugh at him.