A level headed young male between the age of 17-25 who sensibly makes modifications to his vehicle to improve performance. The use of offensive stickers, spoliers borrowed from British Airways, clear tail-lights that give you a headache and practical rims that cost more than the car are all well implemented by the boy racer. As all boy racers are aware, such modifications make a car not only cool but endlessly faster. Most boy racers obtain this valuable information from such reliable sources as their mates.

Boy racers are also known to drive recklessly, as doing so clearly helps in impressing the opposite sex and compensating for sexual inadequacy. The effect that this has on sensible motorists and elderly pedestrians is generally not taken into consideration. It is not a widely held belief amongst boy racers that motorists will eventually tire of them and encourage them off the road in a pick-up truck, or pedestrains will get a sudden urge of adrenaline and hurl a rock through their window and/or plastic spoiler. However, some motorists theorise this will happen.

In conclusion, boy racers make excellent 'airfix' style modifications to their vehicle and spend an admiral amount of time and money modifying a cheap, crappy car with a small engine. Srangely, these modifications never seem to improve performance. They also drive with extreme charisma, few people could claim to handle a vehicle with such spectacular incompetance.

Just don't ask them to change the oil filter, drive up an incline or reverse a trailer.

Typical boy racer: A young lad possesing a greater amount of hair wax than brain cells, in posession of a Citroen Saxo 1.1 litre which his mother has paid for and has sensibly had the kind of money spent on it with which you could conceivably buy a decent car.

I'm so hungry I'd eat a small child
She had a face on her like a well slapped arse
You're as welcome as a fart in a spacesuit
My mouth's as dry as a nun's crack
He has rubber-lined pockets so he can steal soup
He thinks manual labour is a Spanish musician
As funny as a burning orphanage
He's so camp, he shites tent pegs
I'm as sick as a plane to Lourdes
I feel like a boiled sh1te (hung-over)
(when leaving) I'm off like a deb's dress
She had a face on her that would drive rats from a barn
As busy as the Dalkey dole office
Sweatin' like a paedophile in a Barney suit
As tight as a nun's knickers
I'm so horny I'd get up on the crack of dawn
I'd crawl a million miles across broken glass to kiss the exhaust of the van that took her dirty knickers to the laundry.
No show pony but would do for a ride around the house
Did your mother find out who your father is yet?
I left her with a face like a painter's radio
A mickey the size of a double-value can of Right Guard!!
Jaysus, she could breastfeed a creche
As fit as a butcher's dog
Not even the tide would take her out
Mother Teresa wouldn't kiss her
Daz wouldn't shift her
Des Kelly wouldn't lay her
A sniper wouldn't take her out
Jaysus, ya wouldn't ride her into battle
If I'd a bag of bruised willies, I wouldn't give her one
She has a face on her like a bulldog that's just licked piss off a nettle
She wouldn't get a kick in a stampede
She had a fanny like a badly packed kebab
If I'd a garden full of mickeys, I wouldn't let her look over the wall

Our Father who doesn’t recognise any other car.
Starlet be thy Name.
Thy Kingdom come.
Racing will be done.
On Earth as it is in Japan.
Give us This Day on Toyotagtturbo.
And praise our Mods.
As we forgive those who repent against us.
and lead us not into trouble.
But deliver us from underground.
For thine is the Top mount,the Decat and the Dump valve.
forever and ever.
Amen