Usually, when I write a post, it’s regarding a situation or event that either amused me…or frustrated me to the point where it was simply laughable.
But sometimes, just sometimes, something comes along that requires no back story or train of thought.
So, in keeping true to my ‘Life Is Funny’ mantra, here is a photo of a van I was stuck behind in traffic the other day.
In this post I claimed energy drinks gave you anal seepage; it now seems they have a remedy for that.
As we all know, doctors and ambulances tend to have ‘Doctor’ or ‘Ambulance’ written on the bonnet (hood) of their vehicles in reverse. This is for 2 reasons.
Well, this morning whilst walking to work through central London, I saw a small van attempting to adopt the same principle whilst advertising its plumbing and cleaning services.
I say ‘attempting’; it looked a little something like this:
How was that supposed to be effective?
For starters, the van looked like this:
It wasn’t tall enough to be read through the rear window in stationary traffic anyway. Plus, the text was so small it was virtually impossible to read unless your rear window was a huge magnifying glass.
Now THAT would scare the shit out of anyone driving behind you.
“Honey, the children in that car in front are huge!”
This got me thinking.
Assuming you COULD read the writing on the van behind you, and assuming you DID need a plumber AND a cleaner simultaneously, who the fuck has a pen and paper at the ready to take down all those details whilst driving?
Gnitsuahxe si elpoep emos fo ytidiputs eht.
As I walked to my garage this morning I was greeted by this.
What an unbelievably considerate place to park. How am I supposed to get my car through there?
Looks like I’m going to be late for work this fine Monday morning, which is always a great start to the week.
He eventually turned up and I said, “is this you mate?”, to which he didn’t apologise and simply said “one minute mate”.
Being politely British I resisted the urge to call him a cock tugging chimp and instead opened my garage.
I got into my vehicle and started the engine; an action not shared by this festering arse rag who had started unloading his cargo.
Are you fucking kidding?
Words escaped me.
Well…. actually they didn’t.
And ‘better by miles’ weren’t among them.
I’m not a particularly aggressive driver and I don’t really succumb to road rage, but there are some occasions when I’d love nothing more than to drag someone out of their vehicle and then run them over with it.
Yesterday I was driving from Kent back into West Sussex after a heavy night with some close friends. I was feeling a little delicate to say the least and I just wanted to get home and die.
Anyway, this drive home involved four motorways, one of which was the M26. I quite like the M26 because it has the feel of a dual carriageway and actually has views of the surrounding countryside, as opposed to the trench-like M20 which I’m convinced has a thermal exhaust port at the end of it, no wider than 2 metres.
I hear that’s not much bigger than a womp rat.
Another characteristic of the M26 is the fact that it has 2 lanes rather than the standard 3. This results in one of the most annoying of sins in the history of driving, and makes me wish I’d paid a little extra at the dealership for bonnet mounted machine guns.
Being a vital link between the death star trench of the M20 and the car park known as the M25, the M26 tends to have a lot of lorries on it. This is fine if they’re being driven by conscientious, considerate and intelligent drivers; however, yesterday it seemed these people were having a day of rest and had instead entrusted their multi-wheeled leviathans to complete cretins.
There was a three lorry convoy crawling along in the left lane at a mind-blowing 50 miles per hour, when suddenly the penis driving the lorry at the back decided to speed up to 50.1 miles per hour and overtake. . As a result, this oversized male reproductive organ in a hat had blocked the overtaking lane and a queue had started to form behind him.
During the next torturous 12 minutes it became clear that the other two lorries were also being driven by massive manhoods because neither of them slowed to allow him to pass or get back into the left lane. This meant that more and more cars were building up behind them, weaving left and right at a staggering 50.1mph to get a teasing view of the empty motorway sprawled out ahead.
Eventually the idiot pulled in front of the other two lorries and the traffic could finally pass by. What I found interesting was the fact that every car, without exception, slowed down as they approached the new convoy leader; presumably to congratulate him for a successful overtake by shouting praise out of the window.
The woman in the car in front of me appeared to wave at him quite furiously, so that was nice.
Head In A Blender 