Slipperduke
The Camden Cad
I wouldn't want anyone to think that I didn't like Transformers. I am of that age. An age where pocket-money was stockpiled and then squandered on curious plastic trinkets with names like Bumblebee, Starscream and Optimus Prime. Look, it's a plane! Look, it's...erm...a robot that...erm...sort of looks like a plane. Wonderful stuff, especially those little holograms that gave away the robot's alliegance under the pressure of an eight year old's sweaty thumb.
But I'm through that now. It's behind me. Eventually, I lost Bumblebee in the garden and I accidentally broke the doors to Optimus Prime's trailer compartment. Then I bought a Spectrum 128k and never looked back. Citroen however, on the evidence of their continually frustrating campaign, never got their Spectrum.
Last year, the French car-monkeys launched their dancing, robot-car advertising assault to a widespread, "huh?" as millions of befuddled viewers tried to figure out what they were supposed to be watching. Were Citroen actually offering a really quite impressive selling point? Why the breakbeats? Was the robot sentient and indentured under the jackboot of a Hoxton-based, wooly-hat wearing trustafarian? And wouldn't all that shape-throwing make the CD player skip? Citroen offered no answers.
Now, they have returned and this time the robot is even more Grange Hill-cool than ever before. Watch how he dances! Look how he preens himself in front of a mirrored building! Smile as he shakes his stuff in a Chicago ghetto with some, like, genuine black people. Scratch your head as not a single one of the car's actual features is allowed to pass the screen.
Only at the end do Citroen submit and allow our hero to revert to his other form, to accept the cruel duality of his existence. By day, he is the Funkmeister General, by night...erm...well, he looks like an upturned skip on wheels. And herein lies the problem. Citroen have been caught polishing turds. The C5 would never get on with Optimus Prime. If it had a Transformer name, it would be called 'Shoebox', or maybe 'Clog', and it would be in charge of the Autobot's office supplies. It's boxy, uninspiring and, above all, it's safe. And killer robots are not supposed to be safe.
But I'm through that now. It's behind me. Eventually, I lost Bumblebee in the garden and I accidentally broke the doors to Optimus Prime's trailer compartment. Then I bought a Spectrum 128k and never looked back. Citroen however, on the evidence of their continually frustrating campaign, never got their Spectrum.
Last year, the French car-monkeys launched their dancing, robot-car advertising assault to a widespread, "huh?" as millions of befuddled viewers tried to figure out what they were supposed to be watching. Were Citroen actually offering a really quite impressive selling point? Why the breakbeats? Was the robot sentient and indentured under the jackboot of a Hoxton-based, wooly-hat wearing trustafarian? And wouldn't all that shape-throwing make the CD player skip? Citroen offered no answers.
Now, they have returned and this time the robot is even more Grange Hill-cool than ever before. Watch how he dances! Look how he preens himself in front of a mirrored building! Smile as he shakes his stuff in a Chicago ghetto with some, like, genuine black people. Scratch your head as not a single one of the car's actual features is allowed to pass the screen.
Only at the end do Citroen submit and allow our hero to revert to his other form, to accept the cruel duality of his existence. By day, he is the Funkmeister General, by night...erm...well, he looks like an upturned skip on wheels. And herein lies the problem. Citroen have been caught polishing turds. The C5 would never get on with Optimus Prime. If it had a Transformer name, it would be called 'Shoebox', or maybe 'Clog', and it would be in charge of the Autobot's office supplies. It's boxy, uninspiring and, above all, it's safe. And killer robots are not supposed to be safe.
