Ah, so, now we're coming down to personal attacks on the sexual endurance and financial pulling power of the mighty Tau. I'm terribly sorry my friend but such a heinous insult cannot be allowed to go unpunished.
Let's examine the vehicles first shall we? Hmmm, a Landraider is hardly what you'd call sleek is it? Granted, you can park it pretty much anywhere because nobody is likely to be in a position to complain but it lacks, style, it lacks class and, above all, it lacks a suspension. Your date is hardly likely to be impressed as you trundle down the high street, crunching through the gears, rattling her teeth out of her head whilst the smell of unwashed Marine armpits, an overdose of testosterone and sweaty crotch rot permeates the air and tries to compete with the stench of diesel fumes, is she? Although, having said that, it still beats a Baneblade in which the size of the cannon makes up for the shortfall in the Imperial Guardsman's trouser department.
Then we have the Tau vehicles...skimmers. Picture the converted 'Fish, Ferrari Red, sleek lines, subtle mood lighting playing over the hatch as it opens with the almost soundless hiss of damped hydraulics. A leather upholstered interior, a bar stolen straight from the 1st Class section of a 747 and a bitchin' hi-fi system linked to a giant plasma screen covering the opposite wall. No need for suspension because it glides, no worry about speed bumps or potholes, no stench of unwashed Bonehead - the ultimate limo for the Tau-about-town. Style, class and almost silent engines. The Tau are sophisticated and debonair whilst the Marines are simply a bunch of farmers out to play 'pull a pig'...sometimes literally.
Now, sexual endurance. Look, mate...I hate to do this but there's no way to break this to you gently (and it IS for The Greater Good)...the Space Marines are chutney ferrets. We're talking Brother Captain Butt Crack and his Turd Burglar Templars here. Shit, dude...the Marines are the only army whose pay packet includes a baby oil and vaseline allowance..."pumpin' iron and pumpin' gluteus maximus' as the saying goes.
Sorry, guys but facts are facts, the Space Marines couldn't get any gayer if they marched into battle in pink armour with electric blue leg-warmers and swapped their battle standards for fluffy pom poms.
The Greater Good will always
triumph over the greater Leather Joy Boys