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Leave it out, Liz. You've got to make it as awkward as possible for these lower middleclass, council/public sector, lentil munching, twats. T' fuck with 'em! You owe it to your fellow motorists (those who aren?t' 1000cc, Micra driving, boring bastards and dozy twats, that is) to put a spoke in their ?sustainable transport policy?, whenever possible. Nachovx has got the right idea (and attitude). If everyone showed a bit of backbone and willing we could we could derail their evil anti-car policies and fuck them off. They?d have to get proper jobs then - you know, making things and providing services that ordinary people want to buy. They'd have a right rude awakening. And remember, the election is coming up - always a good opportunity to NOT vote for poncy parties who are hell bent on making the motorists life as difficult as possible.

Here's a quick anecdote to stiffen the spines and resolve of 'Safety Camera' victims. Yes, 'Safety Camera's' - what a depressingly Orwellian phrase, hey? Anyhow, it came to pass that I was tooling down the A1, on my way to London, on a nice, sunny, clear day in early September 02. I was in my AMG Merc, near Stamford, the road was lightly trafficked and I was purring along at a comfy and relaxing 80-90 MPH. Everything was well with the world and it felt good to be alive (for a change). So, anyhow, I come to a long straight section (after the Little Chef, but before the Stamford roundabout) and as I get further down I become aware of a white van parked in lay-by at the bottom of this long, ultra-safe, arrow-straight, stretch, and I suddenly feel a little uneasy. Maybe it was my sixth sense or maybe I was recalling some article I had read about these newfangled, mobile 'safety cameras.' Anyhow, I wasn't going to slow down like a tart, or a Nancy boy. It was probably just a fleeting moment of paranoia anyway. So, chin up, and make like you don?t give a fuck. But, as I approached this white van, the feeling of unease grew ever stronger (que Jaws music). There was something odd about it, something odd about it being here on a Saturday, at this time of day. And, as I got closer, I could see that the back door was open...what was that sticking out of the back? Was it a lens of some kind? And what about the blue and red markings on the side ? BOLLOCKS! It?s one of those fucking speed vans! I glanced down at the speedo ? 85 ish. Fuck? Oh well, that?s fucked it.

Anyhow, I continued on my way, but my day had been comprehensivly ruined by those cuntish constables (how could they be a party to that shit? At least the fucking Nazis had the excuse that they would've been shot if they had declined to carry out the whims of the state. Twats). Two weeks later the inevitable brown letter drops onto my doormat. But I?m so fucking pissed at this totally unfair cop, that I immediately rip the fucker up and bin it. They send me another one a month or so later ? I bin that to. Then, around Crimbo, I get another more strident one. Now, a moody geezer like me doesn?t like to invite too much Plod attention, but I was fucked if I was going to pay this iniquitous fine, and more importantly, bollox my license up. So, time to consult my brief, Julian.

?Fucking poxy cunts!? was his preliminary, though well considered, legal opinion on the facts I had laid before him. He then went on to regale me with similar tales of woe and infamy that had befallen numerous other clients. ?But don?t worry; we?ll fuck ?em. Just bring me all the paperwork and your registration document. Hey, talking about tasty motors, my pal James, from ?Urquahart, Shyster and Bent?, called round last week in a bight yellow, fuck-off, 911 turbo. So, I blagged the keys off him and we went out to give it some stick?

Anyhow, I waited to hear what Julian had made of it all, ?and waited, ?and waited?. Eight months later I still hadn?t heard anything, so I thought I?d give him a call to see what the state of play was. ?Er, dunno, I just sent them a letter saying that you didn?t live at the address where the car was registered. Why? Haven?t you heard anything?? ?Er, no?. ?Well, looks like the jobs sorted then, we?ve bamboozled ?em!?? Wheyhey! So, How much do I owe yer?? ?Aw, forget it, just let me have a go in that tasty new M3?


Officer Dibble

All well and good Dibbsy, but in reality, your not making it awkward for anyone but yourself, however a more interesting point concerns petrol prices, if everyone took a stance and didn,t buy ANY petrol for a week, it would fuck the whole system up, supermarkets, garages, tanker drivers refineries the whole shooting match, the system would be awash with fuel going nowhere, till,s, automated systems would crash, and they would have to give the stuff away for a while just to get rid of it, and thats not Orwellion, that for real, but do we do it?
No!

Typical load of Dribbling bollox.
What a bullshitter you are.

Mart

What's up mart? Feeling left out because you haven?t got any equally fascinating and entraining anecdotes to share? Never mind, we can't all lead interesting lives.

But hold on, didn't you say you weren?t going to read anymore of my material?... Ha, ha, ha! Rumbled! ...You know you love it.



Officer Dibble

Now who is it I'm reminded of?
Ah, I remember....Mr. Toad.
Poop! Poop!

Mart

Why dont you two just get a room...

Just over 2 months ago, 1 innocent pedestrian was killed and another 5 injured by a speeding driver (who was also using a mobile phone) at spot where I regularly walk. In addition one of my cousins and a close friend have both been serious injured in crashes caused by reckless speeding drivers.

Speeding isn't clever, speed limits are imposed to protect innocent people, anybody who thinks it's clever is simply pathetic!

About time someone started pointing out the truth about speeding. Well done, Mister C.

You break the speed limit and get caught, you pay the price---and just be grateful no one died as a result of your belief that you know better than everyone else. If speed cameras (or the dreadful "safety" cameras, if you prefer) make people think about what they're doing when behind the wheel of their car, then good---that's what they're there for.

You don't like the police or the Government telling you how to drive your car, or penalising you for driving too fast, then find some private land and drive like a maniac. Yes, fines raise revenue for the Government, or pay for more speed cameras, but believing that's all they are meant to do is stupid and the sort of thinking that belongs on one of those "waaaaaaaaaaaay out there" conspiracy theory sites.

Tut tut Caractacus. Don't you know that Moses came down with 11 Commandments. But since the motor car hadn't been invented then he ignored "Thou shalt drive as fast as thou wantest, indeed I Thy Lord command you to."
So behaving like a selfish pigheaded idiot is a god-given right.

Mart

T' fuck with all that earnest, sanctimonious, hand wringing, Mr C. Shit happens. I spent a whole year in hospital and nearly lost a leg after a car driver, in a moment of utter idiocy and stupidity, went hurtling down a narrow country lane, round a blind bend without tempering his speed, to meet me coming the opposite way on my Honda motorcycle. I certainly wasn't speeding on that occasion - because it was not an appropriate place (i.e. safe) to do so. Anyhow, there was not enough time and road space at that moment for the car driver to adjust his speed and move over to his left side, and I had moved as far over to my left as was possible. There was an inevitable collision, with his motor sheering down the side of my bike - my right leg side. So, after cartwheeling through the air for ten yards or so, I land on the deck. Shit. But hey, it wasn't so bad, I was still alive and in a minute I would get up and survey the damage. But when I did raise my head off the deck I immediately knew that my plans for 'getting up' would have to be put on hold for some considerable time - my leg had burst apart like a bag of sugar dropped on the floor. The scarlet vision of blood, muscle tissue and white fractured bones is an image that will be indelibly etched on my mind to my dying day. It's not many folks that can claim to be intimately acquainted with the inner components of their thigh.

Anyhow, like the 6 Million Dollar Dude (who was the flavour of the time) they rebuilt me. I was lucky enough to have been assigned to a very clever, forward thinking, orthopaedic surgeon who saw my hopelessly mangled leg as an opportunity to tryout some brand new (and expensive) fracture treatment technology that had just been developed in Switzerland. It worked, and a beaming 'Mr Elson' would bring learned professors of medicine from all over the world to see me and the ground breaking stainless steel exo-skeleton that was holding my leg together while the bones could fuse. The geezer who had knocked me off my bike came to see me a few days after the crash, cap in hand and proclaiming his remorse. I gave him absolution. I didn't hate him; we all make stupid calls from time to time. There but for the grace of God...

Some might think that after that experience I might support a national 30MPH limit and a ban on all motor vehicles except Sinclair C5's and milk floats. But no, not a bit of it. Riding my powerful bikes, and later on driving my sports cars, has provided me with some of the most sublime moments of satisfaction in my whole life. To feel the power delivery of the machine, to control it and excise some skill, to feel the g forces as you are catapulted forward as though attached to some giant invisible elastic band is a rush I could not forgo. It makes you feel alive, makes you feel you are living on a different level of awareness to the majority of boring, dozy twats, living banal lives and driving beige 1000cc yawn-mobiles.

To keep a society vibrant, to keep it's spirit alive, you need a dash of devil may care recklessness, a soupcon of irresponsibility and a smidgen cavalier adventurism. It?s the salt and pepper on the feast of life. Yes, some will get hurt, that is the nature of life and existence. But without it society would stagnate and eventually wither. No progress would be made because everything would be considered too dangerous, too risky, to deviate from the dreary, regulated, norm. And, of course, the danger to those in power would be that if perchance people did experience a taste of real life, they might want more.


Officer Dibble