on the relative merits of (some of) the oils (the shamed [former] three of top gear in [excerpted] conversation)

"Rapeseed’s my favourite without a doubt. Rapeseed oil. Bloody music to my flat ears. Three of my favourite things yeah? Conveys them, one two three. Simple is as simple twats. There’s rape, obviously. Say no more. Love it, love it, know it. Then seed, as in hot spunk, my hot spunk, by the – i.e. your, as in like, some woman’s – fucking mouthful. And then oil. I bloody love oil. Rapeseed oil. Top of the class mate. Fucking summa cum cocking laude. New breed of must-drizzle, must-slosh, must-arseholing-glug, straight out of the eggcup you gutless mongs. Absolutely bleeding brilliant. You?"

"Listen mate, I hear your missive, I do, I honestly do, who bloody couldn’t, am I right?, I hear it, but I’m a regular bloke with regular kitchen needs. A traditional at heart, vote conservative, bed by midnight, fuck my wife once a fortnight on Saturday’s with the lights right low. It’s got to be olive mate. Olive oil every time. It’s the solid choice. Besides, puts you in the mind of Popeye’s piece, the bandy bint. Could fold that slag in two and feed it in like a roll of paper into an ancient dot matrix. Perforate my edges, Oil, you cunt! Have a gnaw on my Bluto! And you?"

"Vegetable. Cheap, cheerful and un-bloody-complicated. Ever done it with a vegetable? I don’t mean a cauliflower, a carrot, a beetroot, curly kale, celeriac, or whatever. I’m talking about a vegetable. Cripple, a fucking spaz, you know. A mute, a dummy, a brain dead, a fucking comatose veggie case. Lights are on, and all that. Every sod's fucked off. You get me? You ever done it with one? It’s priceless lads, priceless. Just sort of flump, they do, with every push in. Spray your shit all over their faces and it just stays there, drips in great globs down their eyelids, don’t even try to rub it off. Ha ha. It’s entirely comedic. Ha ha. Vegetable for me."