We all have to make compromises, that’s what Volkswagen tells us. Take Mark for example, he’s making compromises all the time. (There’s no proof that this man is actually called Mark – but look at him, he’s such a Mark.) He’s got two young kids, let’s call them Jenny and Johnny, and now everything in his life is a frustrating look at what he could have won. He has to spend his weekends making sure they stay alive, which means he can’t play golf with his mates and he hasn’t been to a bar that doesn’t also have a soft-play area in four. Long. Years. It’s little Jenny’s fault he’s had to put his vinyl into storage and spends weekends watching The Powerpuff Girls before hanging out at the Kids Rulez Kafe (not a real place, I checked).
Sure, having a son has some perks but even an afternoon at the football with Johnny doesn’t pass without another nail being hammered into Mark’s enjoyment coffin. Typically, his son needs the toilet just as the Blues finally manage to get their new signing on the scoresheet, the one who was putting them away for fun in the Dutch league but just hasn’t had any luck since he came to England. They miss the goal. Bet the kid didn’t wash his hands, either. Still, he’s counted down the seconds until Downton Abbey is over and his weekend, 48 hours of child-filled misery, is over. Now he can return to the real world. Jumping in his VW, he swaps the Peppa Pig CD for TalkSport and puts all signs of his nearest and dearest deep, deep into the glove compartment. At last, he is free and can drive away. Presumably off the edge of the nearest cliff.
