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And unfortunately, since they're on a bit of a tight schedule, and because the Crosley is an utter shit, Jeremy and Richard couldn't just wait for them, even if they wanted to. No kidding. Do tell me at what point I referred to it as a review, other than in my above response to Matt (which was the result of HIM calling it a review)? And no, I don’t think this exercise is folly. This song DOES deserve to be called out, but differently. I typically enjoy your rants because they tend to be well-written and have something resembling a point to get across that’s intrinsic to the source of the rant (i.e. the song). THIS article could and should have been done better; it’s not up to your usual standards. Had it been, I probably would have been laughing or fuming along with you. But I fail to see how “calling it out” has anything to do with what Montgomery or Gentry choose to wear. It would be fine if you devoted a line or two to this “issue,” but it makes up the majority of the rant. Are we hear to read about the song or how little you like their outfits or hair products that they may or may not use? David Allan Coe, the biggest self-promoter in country music history, doesn’t pander to anyone? That’s news to me.

Well… I don’t want to be rude, old chap.” Richard says. “But you’re making a complete hash of this, aren’t you?” FZ: Well I'm gonna make it easy on you, I mean since this is England and everything we don't wanna trundle this thing into the ground, you know. Real simple: all I want is titties and beer. Titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer I didn’t call anyone specifically a sheep, and if you were to read my original comment without judging, you might understand that I didn’t direct it at anyone nor did I mean to make anyone angry. I’ll be honest here: I don’t like bandwagoning and I’ve seen it happen a lot on SCM. Artists who’ve never been criticized here (or in MG’s case, one’s that have even been commended in comments on certain articles) are suddenly disowned just because they cut one or two bad songs and Trigger writes a negative article about it. I don’t like the traditionalist side nor do I like the modernist side of the country music argument. They’re both based on more generalizations than facts, in my opinion. When it comes to traditionalists, I’ve argued with quite a few who mindlessly slap “modern” together with “pop” or “new” with “crap.” I apologize for not giving you the benefit of the doubt, here. I didn’t mean to phrase my comments to make it sound as if simply not liking or being negative toward MG means that you or anyone else is a “sheep” or “narrow-minded traditionalist.” I was referring more to bandwagoners and those that simply hate modern country music because it’s not Waylon Jennings and they’re so disposed to the idea that modern country is pop that they won’t even give MG’s better music a chance before saying that they hate it. Unaware of recent developments, both Jeremy and Richard have been on the road for quite some time now in their own cars after stopping for lunch after visiting the Prisoner of War camp. Passing the time by discussing which Jaguar had an overdrive button. Completely oblivious to the fact that their fellow colleagues and partners are catching up to them. She’s not sure what the hell James is up to now as she watches him pull over onto the side of the road in the Crosley, before he’s getting out and slamming the door shut. And he doesn’t look pleased at all. Not that she really blames him, she would be too if she were him.Terry: Wait a minute . . . a tinge of doubt crosses my mind when you say that you want to make a deal with me Miraculously, she’s able to convince James to not drive off just yet as some of the crew that’s still with them goes off to find a trailer and cables to tow the Crosley behind the hotrod. Although James isn’t too pleased at the idea of having to tow the Crosley, requesting one of the crew cars to tow it along, or that they just abandon it instead.

FZ: Titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer The worst part about “Titty’s Beer” is that the song doesn’t even work on any fundamental level. There’s actually a legacy in country music that uses innuendo and wordplay to veil sexually-charged content that can be both witty and entertaining. But “Titty’s Beer” bears it all, leaving nothing to the imagination. Hold on a second man, keep it forever? You're so bold. I mean, I don't know if I want to get into this after allIn truth though, Lizzy isn’t exactly the fondest of having to be the one to drive this car. It looks terrible, and the ride is horrible. She’d quite honestly be happy to not have to drive the damn thing. The only thing it has going for it compared to the Crosley is the fact that it doesn’t have a high speed of 38mph. Sighing, she turns towards the camera van parked behind the metallic purple hotrod. “Someone’s going to have to set up a camera in there for him.” She says as one of the camera guys walks over. “Careful though, he’s in a bit of a foul mood.”