It had to happen one day. Today I got shunted right up the chuff.
No, not quite the dropping the soap in prison shunted. Instead, my little car took it.
Fear not. Nobody was hurt, well at least not physically. In my years of driving, I have only ever had one bump and that was me stupidly reversing into someone else. But that was when I was a novice. Since then, touch wood I have been fine.
It's a Sunday, there was hardly any traffic and the sun had even popped out as I drove home from a bit of shopping. I was almost home when I pulled up at some traffic lights. And then... There was a tiny little
The car rocked forward ever so slightly. Puzzled I looked around to see what had caused it. Then I noticed in the rear view mirror there was a car behind me practically baw-deep* up my back.
*Baw-Deep (Balls Deep), Glasgow slang, referring to the sexy party situation where you find your 'sword' hilted to the very pommel
I opened the door and somewhat bemusedly walked to the back of the car. I still wasn't sure the car behind had hit me.
The other car jerked back a few feet in an amateurish reverse. I leant down and looked at my bumper, there was a mark. A little dent maybe? Oh bugger. I couldn't be arsed with this nonsense. I straightened up hoping the other driver was going to be a reasonable soul.
After all the last thing I was in the mood for was to give someone a sound thrashing with my cane.
The other car opened. It was some big roaring monster of a 4x4.
A lady in her twenties stepped down from the monster truck and walked toward me with an oh noes kind of expression on her face.
Is there any damage? She cried, in some seeming distress.
Just a little dent, not much. It will probably be alright Said I, in that knowledgeable man way.
Oh I am so glad, I am reeeeeaaally sorry for that.
Ach, no bother. These things happen eh, will we just swap details? I will get it checked out but it should be ok.
She pouted slightly, it was then I noticed that she was quite pretty in a I'm rich as fuck and my hobbies mostly involve horses and men called Sebastien kind of way.
It's only a little mark, we don't need to swap details, do we? Her eyes spasmodically jerked open and closed.
I think it's slightly dented, I will get it checked out but it's probably nothing.
She laughed, a girlish tinkling affair and reached over to pat my superbly muscled arm looking at me for all the world as if we were in the desert and I was an ice lolly.
She bent down to examine the dent before raising her head and tossing a mountain of hair aback over her shoulder.
I really don't see much at all. It should be fine yeah?
Her bottom lip must have been right itchy as she was giving it a good chew.
I felt something click inside of me. Hang on, was she flirting with me? Really? Good lord, she was. It was quite nice but wasn't quite as nice as not having your car smacked in the arse.
As I say, it should be fine, Will probably be nothing. What's your name...
Oh gawd. Really? Is it money? Will that do?
She trotted off back to her car and re-emerged, rummaging in a giant bag. From an oversized purse she started counting out some twenty pound notes.
Look, here, will 60 cover it?
What the fuck? Was I a prostitute now? Is that what everything boils down to? Just throw money at the serfs?
Did she expect me to doff my cap in deference and say thank you ma'am, sorry to be a bother ma'am?
The horse-loving, Sebastien rider looked at me with mild contempt as these thoughts whirred and clanked in my head.
What about the principle of the thing? Did she think that fluttering her eyelashes and throwing twenty-pound notes at me like I was some yoghurt stained lap dancer was the answer to banging my ancient old car up the chuff?
Erm, yeah, 60 should do. Cheers