Ged Bulmer

THE ACCOMPANYING YARN WAS A RIB TICKLER, BUT THE SUITS AT PORSCHE DIDN'T SEE IT THAT WAY

BY THE TIME I dropped into the snug Recaros at MOTOR in September '98 my predecessor Ewen Page had already Scandoflicked the mag onto a more determined performance car path, in a bid to differentiate it from stablemate Wheels.

With the racing line already laid down all I needed to do was refine the formula, don the blinkers to ignore the 'whitegoods on wheels', and focus on covering the fastest and most desirable machines on the planet. It helped that we had a new Pommy publisher named Steve Carey who questioned the prevailing wisdom of MOTOR playing second fiddle to Wheels. He gave us the budget and the confidence to ditch the existing two-car team strategy and go for the podium's top step.

That decision released the team's inner mongrel. Journos are competitive by nature, but motoring journos are next level. When I told Marton Pettendy, Michael Taylor, Lenny 'The Large' Ellis, John Wright and Trevor Bridger that we were greenlit to have a crack, they accessorised the Nomex with knuckle dusters and came out swinging.

It was in the middle of the 'lad mag' era in the UK and Australia, and we embraced the contemporary design and cheekier style it championed, adding lashings of blokey humour to our expert car analysis. We wrote about cars the way we'd talk to our mates at the pub and began what became a fine MOTOR tradition of ripping the piss in stories and captions wherever possible.

The mag was completely redesigned, with an edgy new look, larger physical dimensions, and better paper stock. We added new columnists, including the brilliant Paul Cockburn and erudite industry veteran Bill Tuckey, while giving the likes of Jon Hawley and Dave Morley free rein to excite, insult and infuriate.