The Fellowship of the Road??

The brother went out for dinner, including wine, so we had to go and pick his car up. I was already in a mood to be ired by other people and they excelled themselves. In a 15-minute journey, as well as the usual wazzocks parking on already-difficult T-junctions, and the standard fuckwits-with-foglights: an aged Escort hurtling across a roundabout I'd just started to enter, a positively ancient Chevette overtaking (without signals, of course) on an urban road leading to a roundabout (to no advantage as we pulled up alongside at traffic lights two minutes later), an old MR2 doing 45-odd on a 30mph street (I suppose it's far more important to demonstrate one's virility and dynamism than not to kill pedestrians)... and the coup de grace: I was waiting to turn right at a roundabout, and waited for a car approaching from the right to cross and go straight ahead - I probably could have gone, but I thought I'd give way anyway. So this guy has ten seconds to watch me waiting, signalling right, and then reaches the roundabout and turns left. Well, you can imagine my disapproval; and if you can't, here's a rough transcript...

YOU BLOODY BASTARD BOLLOCKING CRETINOUS HALF-WITTED ARSE!!!

Well, honestly. 'Signalling to turn left' is hardly an advanced driving technique, is it. No doubt the fact that I'm unbalanced enough to let these things upset me makes me the worse offender, mind...

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I've also noticed a distinct 'crinkle finish' lately to several vehicles belonging to what used to be called, somewhat too respectfully in my view, 'boy racers'. Whether this (and the wonky numberplates) is deliberate, or whether the locals have started sourcing their chavmobiles from scrapheaps, I'm not sure...