On One’s first foray out in the remaining ve-hickle what we have to our name, One was tentative with One’s tiny foot on the accelerator.
‘Twas night time and One was required to repair to Tesco in Ilfracombe to obtain essential supplies: Jellington Bambinos, Hobnobs and nail polish remover for the hospital visit etc.
Behind the trepidatious One, an oik chose to drive as if his front bumper were attached to One’s rear of same.
One was pootling at the optimum speed for safety and the fact that One was unsure of the route.
This caution following the up-turned ve-hickle drama of last week clearly engendered anger, impatience and frustration to the driver of the car directly up One’s chuffer.
On a suitably straight and uncluttered stretch of road the blighter overtook, shot into the distance and then, with stupidity borne of ignorance and venom, took it upon himself, for One feels fairly certain ‘twas a ‘he’, opted to slow down immediately in front of One to around fifteen miles per hour.
This ridiculous behaviour was clearly designed to ‘pay One back’ for holding up his speedy arrival at wherever he was going.
What a prize dick! One is aware that middle aged ladies driving Volvos are fair game to the indestructible male driving youth, but pulease, spare a thought for the recently up-turned jibbering mess that is Lovely One.