Why Thomas The Tank Engine Is Better Than Everything Else

Yes, I said everything. The Stones, money, sex, gold, rum punches, life, the universe and everything...
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Yes, I said everything. The Stones, money, sex, gold, rum punches, life, the universe and everything...

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While reading this article about the most tedious argument in music history, I noticed something disgusting. Something so abhorrent, something so seedy and distasteful that I could do nothing but vent my unfiltered anger into my own riposte. This so-called writer, nay, this so-called man slated the behemoth of industrial strength that is Thomas the Tank Engine.

How anyone could degrade such a bastion of hope and of struggling against overwhelming adversary with such venom is beyond me. Here is why The Tank is better than The Rolling Stones and everything else that has ever existed.

He's a Fucking Train

Are you a train? Do people sit around in the rain with thermos flasks just trying to get your number (well, for some that may be true)? Are you entrusted with transporting everyone from the homeless guy bunking the train to the Queen travelling the country to entertain the peasants? The answer is no, you are not a train. You are not a symbol of engineering ingenuity. You are a fat slob, staring at your computer screen, with no furnace burning within you. You bellow no smoke. You are nothing.

He's Got Style

Have you seen that paint job? Geez, he pulls that off perfect. The thing is, no one else could. He's speeding down those tracks arresting gazes wherever he goes. Past council houses and posh estates, everyone's got respect for the way he carries himself. Mick Jagger couldn't pull that colour scheme off, no way. Even Bowie would baulk at that shit. Thomas doesn't even care. His look is effortless. He was given that paint job and he owns it without breaking a sweat. You dress yourself and you look like arse.

He's Got His Own Theme Tune

Everyone wants their own theme tune. That's why MP3 players are so popular as they make us feel like whatever shit we're listening to is sound-tracking our lives. As we walk to work, we imagine ourselves in a film in a desperate ten minutes of escapism where we try to avoid the crushing reality that all we are are tools for our superiors to make money. Thomas gets one done for him for no other reason than he deserves one. A song solely written for him, just like Marilyn Monroe and Princess Di got, except The Tank's one is a ton better.

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Ringo Starr Works For Him

That's right. That goggle-eyed, ring-wearing, smiley Beatle has been forced into submission by The Tank. A man incredibly rich and famous is bent to Thomas' will, narrating every action of his life. Whatever you think of Starr, making a Beatle spend his time concentrating and talking about you is no easy feat. Then again, this is Thomas we're talking about. Describing his life is a privilege. This steed of steel has no master, he only controls others. Ringo is just another one of his countless millions that have dedicated all aspects of their lives to Thomas.

Actually, fuck this list rubbish. This isn't Buzzfeed or Cracked. I don't need to spoon feed my point to you. I don't even need to explain it to you. The Rolling Stones, yea, they're good I guess, probably. I don't know. Who really gives a shit? No one. Apart from mental fans who are willing to pay to see the skin-coated skeletons on strings that represents the band on stage nowadays. Jumping Jack Fuck Off, yadda yadda yadda.

Next time you need to travel to the arse end of the country, are you going to be travelling on the soundwaves produced by long-haired druggies? No you are not. You'll be on a bloody train. A train nowhere near as good as Thomas, but one that wants to be. That's right; you'll be depending on a sub-standard version of the greatest vehicle the earth has ever known. You'll be speeding, well rolling through, the British countryside on a shit heap of a carriage, surrounded by screaming babies and weird old men wishing you were on something a quarter as good as Thomas.

So, here we are. This article has now produced a world where more people know that Thomas the Tank Engine is better than The Rolling Stones. This is the kind of knowledge that can only better the planet. Wouldn't you rather that when you're mate starts going on about some obscure Rolling Stones bootleg, you can just scream this into his face until he fucks off, goes home and wanks himself while pretending he's Marianne Faithful?

In these dark days of unemployment and rubbery-faced politicians, there is only one place where we may fine hope: in Thomas the Tank Engine. Train, legend, and tamer of Starrs. Bow to your fucking overlord.