Sunday, 7 October 2012


So I was happily driving home from work when I spotted a fury of a car screeching down the on ramp onto the motorway.
Well, I thought, as he tore onto the road in his Audi Getoutmyway, wonder if his wife is in labour or he needs a poo?
He sped past some old dear up the inside lane and I could see he was alone, just him, his club foot, his 4x4 and his god-given right to be ahead of everyone.
He swept across the three lanes like a hot knife with no indicators slashing at some butter.
Well I thought, this should set his piles to tingle as I shimmied the 1.6 Mazda into the fast lane just in front of him.
To make it worse, I only indicated as I settled into what was now a not so fast lane.
Not sure what happened to him next. I think a wasp maybe got into the car as he spent the next 500 yards waving his arms in all directions at once while screaming.
Crikey I thought, that must be some size of a bloody wasp. It must have stung him on his face as well as it was swelling up and going a very uncomfortable looking colour.
He was built like his car, huge with bits he would never need. He had alloy eyes with diabetes and high blood pressure on show for all to see.
I could now see why he was in such a rush, he was drowning in his own suit. It was eating him alive, squeezing the life out him so as his head got smaller his suit grew and grew.
His tiny fat head was sticking out of a jacket that was consuming him, pushing him down into the quicksand of his collar.
He was closer and angrier now but all I could see was a man out of control as his suit eat him, his arms flayed around after a deadly wasp and his car tried to get jiggy with mine.
As he fought the wasp, his car played out a high speed courtship with mine. It started by getting very close, then began flashing its big white eyes off and on constantly as its horn began its loud serenade.
I was down to 50mph by now and the middle lane traffic was undertaking me. The fluorescent chap behind me moved into the middle lane.
He pulled up alongside me as traffic slowed when we approached a stretch of motorway where police have said everyone must slow down as we have a surplus of 50mph signs and need somewhere to put them.
I pulled my window down in order to check he was OK, but he started shouting.
It could have been: Oh you, rid of me of this wasp as I battle my man-eating suit."
Or it might have been: "Oy you f*****g wan*er, I will rip your f*****g head off."
Of course, he may have been talking to the wasp although why he would wind his window down and shout it across at me is anyone's guess but a a man being eaten by a suit is likely to get desperate.
Smiling didn't help, he got even crosser.
But what really boiled his pish was me shouting through my open window that I couldn't hear him as my window was broken before flicking the button to raise it.
I lowered it again to say: "It's such a nuisance, bloody windows. Nice suit by the way."
I sped off as much as my sweet little Mazda allowed me and cut in to take my exit with him now stuck in the middle lane unable to get out as a flurry of equally cross drivers now drove within an inch of each other in a desperate bid to win race no one else was taking part in.
But I'm not sure he heard me as the wasp was back and his arms were everywhere again.
Never saw him again, shame.
I don't like being bullied, anywhere. I will do what it takes to end it. If you have a fast or big car, it doesn't give you any more rights than those in smaller or slower motors.
The places slower drivers go are just as important as the places you apparently needed to be yesterday. Set off earlier, get a helicopter, use a TARDIS, do something else other than bullying, harassing and annoying people with the same rights on the road as you, gobshites.
I am still out there fighting daily. I may be a bad driver but at least I am wasp free, have manners, indicators, and remember this, no sense of self preservation.
Take care.

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