The Judge RANTS!
Beat A Blocker!
If you wonder why I have An Attitude towards motorists, consider
I was on my way home from work yesterday. Going through one of the
villages on the way home, the bus turns right into a residential area.
Picture the scene:
On the left-hand side of the road is a Range Rover-type vehicle,
neatly parked (except that in terms of the strict letter of the law
it's facing the 'wrong' way. No matter).
Another car pulls up on the right-hand side of the road,
directly opposite the parked car (there is plenty of room to park on
the left-hand side). This leaves just about enough room between them
for a standard family saloon to get through.
The driver gets out of her car and, despite being able to see the
bus approaching, strolls over to the telephone box about three metres
She spends about four minutes in there making a phone call.
Nothing, but nothing can move her - the tooting of the horn of
a 35-seater Leyland has not the slightest effect on her.
Concluding her chat with her friend/hairdresser/probation
officer/whatever, she casually strolls back out to her car. She then
pulls away, goes about twenty metres down the road, then turns left in
to the cul-de-sac.
Not only has she driven a grand total of about a hundred
metres to the phone box, but she has held up a bus full of passengers
(well, alright, three passengers, but that's hardly the point -
especially when I'm one of them) for five minutes whilst doing
If you happen to read this, sweetie, I think you ought to know
that, on Tuesday last at approximately 16:15 hours, you came very close
to getting your tits plunged into hot Mazola cooking oil for six
minutes at gas Mark 7.
Don't do it again, you anti-social, ignorant bitch!