Moving on.

Yesterday was a big day in my life.... Yes, that's right... I took down my Stig posters. I took them all down and stared at the empty space where they once were. I just stared at the pale, whitish green paint that hugged the wall on a daily basis. I held the papers in my hand, still not quite wanting to let them go. It's The Stig. He's still The Stig. Nothing can change that. Can it? Everything changes. The people in your life, the food you like, growing up, growing down, growing sideways. Which ever way you grow. Everything. Changes. I don't look at The Stig now and see The Stig. I see a desperate and limp man. Someone to almost feel sorry for. I don't see a childlike innocence in him like I used to. Yeh, right, I know, I'm weird, I'm lame, he's just a guy in a racing helmet. Except he wasn't. He was a member of a well rounded foundation. Whether he saw that or not. I'm looking at the top poster now, I'm not sure if in pity or disgust. Most likely a combination of both. I place them in the bed in front of me and stare back at the wall.

You know something I realised today? I have this DVD, Top Gear Winter Olympics. There's an extra on that DVD. It's simply The Stig sliding around the Top Gear track in a red Vauxhall Monaro VXR. I'd watch it every time I felt a little sad. And it never failed to cheer me up. That simple 5 minute clip. The slow motion, the Bach Cello Suite No.1 soundtrack. It's poetry in motion. And no I can't enjoy it. It does the opposite to what it used to. It actually saddens me now. I can't watch it knowing that inside that monaro isn't an awesome half robot, half man alien driving machine from space and instead it's just some poncy little twat who thinks it's okay to crush every ones trust and then bugger off to fucking ff...ffffffff....fffiiifth gear.

But you know what... Even though he's taken away one of my favourite pick me ups, actually one of my favourite things in general, I'm still not completely sad. Because there's a much better pick me up he's left behind. He took away something far more valuable from himself. Respect.

I can't hate The Stig. It's not his fault he was played by a twat. My mum put my posters back up before I got home from uni. She knows me so well.