During my time at
Given my advanced years, I had thought such rumbustiousness would be a thing of
the past but alas, while making my weary way home after undertaking some heavy investigative journalism, I found myself at the centre of exactly the sort of sad situation I
thought I had long since left behind.
Negotiating a junction off of the busy M234 in the same way I have done hundreds
of times in the past, I drove across the marked lanes and selected the correct one
for my exit. However, it seems that this simple manoeuvre prompted a “white van
driver” behind me to become somewhat restive.
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| Stock photo of stereotypical White Van Man |
This impatient half-wit, no doubt fuelled by a mixture of cocaine and steroids,
began to flash his headlights, sound his horn and make a variety of interesting
and amusing hand gestures, which may or may not have been some sort of
“gang-sign” of the type I understand is so much favoured by drug-dealers and
other undesirables of such ilk.
This “gentleman” was becoming quite agitated, so Mrs. U.I. suggested that we further
investigate his behaviour in an attempt to improve the importunate chap’s education
and understanding.
What desperate failure in his life or inadequacy in his upbringing led him to
such a display of obvious road rage I have no idea, so in a spirit of inquiry,
Mrs. U.I. and I decided to find out.
That morning, I had been pheasant shooting at a friend’s estate and my antique
shotgun was tucked away in the boot of my trusty Audi. Unwilling to leave such
a valuable item in my vehicle unattended, I retrieved it and took it with me as
Mrs. U.I and myself disembarked to ask what mental crisis our friend in the
white van behind us was enduring.
Strangely the Neanderthal, wearing the usual uniform of close-cropped hair, manicured
stubble and the inevitable grey, tight-fitting grey tracksuit complete with
hood, refused to communicate with us, instead clicking the button to lock all
of his van doors and feverishly stabbing at his mobile telephone.
Mrs. U.I. attempted to initiate a dialogue by banging on his windscreen and mimicking
the display of “gang-sign” that this driver had shown us earlier, but to no
avail. By now, the traffic was beginning
to build up and within minutes, a large number of traffic police arrived in a
fleet of noisy vehicles complete with blaring sirens and flashing lights, along
with a police helicopter and several black-clad officers of the law bearing
some quite impressive weaponry.
Needless to say, the situation was soon resolved to the satisfaction of all. I
explaining that any spare seconds were needed to decide whether to engage fight
or flight mode, secretly realising I should have perhaps chosen the latter and simply
noted his number plate with the aim of reporting his aggressive behaviour to
the authorities. I’m not a fighter and, but all things considered, I still feel
I took the right decision, not least because this ne’er-do-well had all the
look of someone involved in organised crime.
Such people need to be taught a lesson and I think that Mrs. U.I. and myself
perhaps gave this chap pause for thought and maybe even put him on the path to
become a more worthwhile and polite member of society.
One would hope that he would at least think twice before becoming so visibly
angry with the obviously wealthy driver of an expensive car in future!
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Kent’s Greatest Prick Ever
wrote:
It is good to see a member of the better-off classes taking a stand against the
yobbish behaviour of their inferiors. It would be a mark of a woke, snowflake
socialist state if members of the ruling elite were not allowed to put the
working-class peasantry in their place, with shotguns if necessary. We are so
very fortunate that our present government supports this status quo.
I am wondering if this article is related to an earlier event this week? If so, it rather proves that the Undercover Imbecile is, in
fact, a one-man (plus one woman!) crime wave who operates in a totally
consequence-free environment.
Kent’s Greatest Prick Ever replied:
Of course he does, you silly boy. The sooner you grow up and learn that
“privilege” means exactly that, the happier your betters will be.