Step Two: The two men should get themselves to a pub quickly and laugh in a nervous fashion.
Step Three: The two men, now sober should go and fetch said Rover 620 from a location near Bristol. Under no account should the car be checked for any mechanical defects whatsoever - just as long as the indicators work and the stereo sounds good.
Step Four: Of the two, the man who hasn't driven anything more complicated than a mountain bike in the last year should be given the keys and instructed to drive it home despite the fact that he hasn't really got a fucking clue where he is going, or how an automatic car works.
Step Five: The car should be tested as to the sellers claims that it will "do well over 90 on the motorway".
Step Six: The car should be carefully parked and laughed at derisively by the driver.
Step 7: A third, practical man should ask the other two questions such as:
a) "Did you check the engine at all?"
b) "Why not? You complete idiots."
c) "Have you noticed the steam coming out of the radiator?"
Step 8: An in depth analysis of the workings of the motor should be carried out, while attempting to ignore the rantings of the local homeless community.
Step 9: The vehicle should be taken to a secure location, say, an office car park on a bank holiday weekend and parked well away from the CCTV camera. The car should then be prepared for modification by only the most skilled and hardworking technicians - attention to detail is a must at this critical stage.
Step 10: The car should be daubed with all manner of carefully chosen high grade art materials, in a thoughtful, expressive - but above all meaningful manner. Failing that you could just pelt it with a load of dodgy gloss paint, using brushes and sticks that you have nicked out of a dead man's shed. Once dry the car shold be paraded to the adoring masses of your chosen locale. Remember: someone shouting "Sort it out - you fucking wankers" is probably just an expression of existential angst or repressed sexual ambiguity.
